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University  Library 
University  of  California  •  Berkley 


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SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN 
PLAZA 


(C)  Hugo  Brehme,  Mexico  City. 

Organ  Cactus,  Frequently  Used  for  Fences  and  Hedges 


SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN 
PLAZA 

A  Summer  s  Idyll  of  an  Idle  Summer 


BY 
"EL  GRINGO " 

(GEO.^F.  WEEKS) 


ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK  CHICAGO 

Fleming    H.    Revell   Company 

LONDON         AND         EDINBURGH 


Copyright,  1918,  by 
FLEMING  H.  REVELL  COMPANY 


New  York:  158  Fifth  Avenue 
Chicago:  17  North  Wabash  Ave. 
London:  21  Paternoster  Square 
Edinburgh:  75  Princes  Street 


TO 

MY  FRIEND 
Jhm  JHartin 

THAT    TYPICAL   MEXICAN    GENTLEMAN 

TO  WHOM  I  OWE  MANY  PLEASANT 

HOURS  AND  MANY  VALUED 

COURTESIES    AND 

KINDNESSES 


CONTENTS 


IDYLL  PAGE 

I.  FAR-AWAY,  QUIET  CUATRO  CIENEGAS     1 1 
II.  A  STRANGE  BUSINESS  .       .       .       .16 

III.  THE  EDUCATED  CROW  THAT  PLAYED 

THE  PIANO        .       .       .       .       .19 

IV.  WHY  THEY  THOUGHT  I  WAS  RUDE     .     23 
V.  THE  DEVOUT  PRAYING  CRIPPLE      .     28 

VI.  REGULAR  PRIVATE  BEGGARS  ON  REG- 
ULAR DAYS 33 

VII.  "  You  MAY  PAY  ME  WHATEVER  You 

PLEASE  " 38 

VIII.  NOVEL  METHOD  OF  HANDLING  MEAT    43 
IX.  LITTLE  JUAN  JOSE  WONG  AND  His 

SISTER  "  LUPE  "              .       .       .46 
X.  THE  CRIMEAN  WAR  AND  THE  MEX- 
ICAN PLAZA 50 

XI.  THE  CAPTURED  BOY  WHO  FOUND  His 

WAY  HOME 58 

XII.  LEISURELY  MANNER  OF  TRANSACTING 

BUSINESS    .       .       .       .       .       .67 

7 


8  CONTENTS 

IDYLL  PAGE 

XIII.  GENEROSITY  A  NATIONAL  TRAIT      .     71 

XIV.  AN  OPEN-AIR  MOVIE  EXHIBITION    .     78 
XV.  A  LATE  AFTERNOON  PANIC  IN   THE 

PLAZA 84 

XVI.  A  CHILD'S  FAITH  IN  DON  PORFIRIO    94 
XVII.  THE  INTERESTING  PROCESS  OF  MAN- 
UFACTURING CANDLES     ...     99 
XVIII.  A  HOT  WATER  BATH  IN  A  BOTTOM- 
LESS PIT 105 

XIX.  TRAGIC    ENDING    OF    A    TRANQUIL 

SUMMER 112 

XX.  A  PEON  WOMAN'S  PHILOSOPHY  AND 

IDEAS  OF  WEALTH  116 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


FACING 
PAGE 


ORGAN  CACTUS,  FREQUENTLY  USED  FOR  FENCES 

AND  HEDGES         ....        Frontispiece 

THE   CUATRO   ClENEGAS   PLAZA   IN   SUMMER  .       14 

PACKING  ADOBES  ON  A  BURRO    .        .        .        .20 

RURAL  TRANSPORTATION 20 

THE  CUATRO  CIENEGAS  PLAZA  IN  WINTER         .    30 

THE  CHURCH 30 

Too  OLD  TO  WORK  AND  so  BECOMES  A  BEGGAR  34 
A  LITTLE  MEXICAN  BEAUTY  .  .  .  .34 
BRINGING  IN  A  LOAD  OF  HERBS  .  .  .  .34 
AGED  MEXICAN  INDIAN  TYPES  .  .  .  .40 

ROAD  UP  THE  CANYON  FROM  CUATRO  CIENEGAS 
TO  THE  DESERT 64 

STARTING  FOR  THE  DESERT  .  .  .  .64 
PEON  FAMILY  AT  HOME 68 

UPPER  CLASS  FAMILY  GROUP  IN  PATIO  OF  RESI- 
DENCE     68 

PACK  TRAIN  CARRYING  FIREWOOD  TO  TOWN     .     86 

GUAYULE  TRAIN  COMING  INTO  TOWN  FROM  THE 

DESERT 86 

A  MEXICAN  BRIDE 94 

9 


10  ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING 
PAGE 

HAULING  VEGETABLE  WAX  PLANTS  TO  THE  FAC- 
TORY        100 

GUAYULE  RUBBER  FACTORY  AT  CUATRO  CIENEGAS  100 
MUNICIPAL  BUILDING  IN  CUATRO  CIENGAS         .  106 

PICTURESQUE     CANYON     ON     RAILWAY     FROM 
MONCLOVA  TO  CUATRO  CIENEGAS        .        .106 

Initial  letters  and  tail  pieces 'by  the  author's  daughter, 
Mrs.  ANNIE  WEEKS  HUNTER 


Jfutft 

FAR-AWAY,  QUIET  CUATRO  CIENEGAS 

WAY  out  on  the  edge  of  things  in  the 
State  of  "Coahuila  and  Zaragosa," 
far  to  the  south  of  the  Rio  Grande, 
is  the  picturesque,  thoroughly  typ- 
ical little  town  of  Cuatro  Cienegas — "Four 
Meadows."  The  meadows  are  there  all  right, 
though  not  immediately  apparent  to  the  newcomer. 
But  keen  sportsmen  with  an  eye  to  a  bag  of  ducks, 
geese  or  other  feathered  game  know  very  well  their 
location — and  are  quite  apt  to  keep  that  knowledge 
to  themselves — though  the  friendly  engineer  who 
halts  the  train  an  hour  or  two  to  let  some  of  his 
passengers  shoot  a  goodly  bunch  of  birds  does  not 
come  under  that  category. 

The  name  is  a  pretty  one — pretty  to  a  degree,  as 
well  as  appropriate ;  rolls  smoothly  from  the  tongue 
of  the  native,  as  also  from  that  of  the  foreigner — 
after  he  knows  how.  It  is  a  pretty  place,  too — if 
you  like  places  that  are  "different" ;  that  are  dusty 

11 


12         SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

as  becomes  a  locality  where  no  rain  falls  on  occa- 
sion for  over  two  years  at  a  stretch — where  it  may 
be  said  of  a  truth  that  "there  falls  not  either  rain  or 
hail  or  snow" ;  but  which  nevertheless  has  vineyards 
and  orchards  and  gardens  and  flowers  regardless 
of  such  trifling  natural  vagaries  as  absence  of  rain 
— deriving  their  life  from  a  tumbling,  dashing, 
noisy,  attractive  mountain  torrent. 

A  pretty  location — mostly  desert,  though  that 
fact  makes  the  gardens  all  the  more  attractive.  And 
incidentally  one  can  readily  possess  himself  of  a 
loaf  and  a  jug  (of  not  bad  native  wine),  and  a 
tree  in  the  desert — without  going  more  than  a  mile 
or  two  from  town — as  also  with  an  attractive 
"thou,"  native  or  otherwise,  if  he  be  disposed  to 
follow  the  poet  literally  and  with  exactness — also 
with  poetic  license. 

It  is,  in  a  sentence,  a  place  where  one  can  loaf 
and  invite  his  soul,  if  he  be  in  the  loafing  mood  and 
if  perchance  he  have  a  soul ;  and  if  he  be  a  foreigner, 
the  only  one  in  the  town,  and  have  but  a  few  words 
of  the  vernacular — just  enough  to  eat  and  drink  and 
on  occasion  swear  by — he  can  surely  loaf  and  invite 
his  soul  to  his  soul's  content — and  more,  too !  Some- 
times altogether  too  much — and  then  some. 

Being,  let  us  say  (as  was  the  writer),  the  only 


QUIET  CUATRO  CIENEGAS          13 

foreigner  in  town,  none  of  the  natives  with  a  single 
exception  speaking  English ;  with  one's  eyes  in  such 
a  state  that  the  physician  had  been  obliged  to  pass 
sentence  of  "No  reading";  with  only  sufficient 
sporadic  business  to  keep  one  occupied  a  few  days 
each  month — all  too  few  for  comfort  of  mind  or 
body — what  resource  was  left? 

We  shall  see. 

The  only  "loafing  place"  in  a  Mexican  town  is  the 
plaza — barring,  of  course,  the  cantinas,  as  saloons 
are  called. 

Wise  in  his  day  and  generation,  knowing  that 
"breathing  spots"  are  as  essential  almost  as 
eating  or  drinking  spots,  the  Spanish  pioneer, 
in  planning  a  town,  always  lays  out  the  breath- 
ing spot  first.  He  delineates  this  on  broad  and 
ample  lines,  and  surrounds  the  plaza  with  buildings 
as  a  secondary  consideration.  Land  may  become 
valuable  in  time,  the  eyes  of  "business" — not  native 
eyes — may  be  turned  covetously  on  the  plaza,  but  it 
is  useless.  The  Spaniard  or  Mexican  would  part 
with  the  patio  (interior  flower-planted  courtyard) 
of  his  house  as  soon  as  with  the  plaza  of  his  town. 
So  to  the  plaza  all  the  idle  and  unemployed  and 
infirm  turn — and,  anxious  to  follow  the  custom  of 
the  country,  if  for  no  other  reason,  thither  went  the 


14        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

writer  to  pass  the  long,  weary  hours  between  day- 
light and  what  hour  far  into  the  night  when  sleep 
at  last  drove  him  to  his  cot — literally  cot — a  spring 
mattress  supported  on  two  wooden  "horses,"  in  a 
bare,  sparsely  furnished  room  of  an  ancient  stone 
structure  made  historical  from  the  fact  that  during 
one  of  the  violent  revolutions  of  the  past  century 
four  men  sheltered  therein  held  at  bay  a  force  of 
two  hundred  soldiers,  killing  and  wounding  many 
of  them,  and  only  succumbing  when  hunger,  thirst 
and  wounds  made  further  resistance  no  longer 
possible. 

Like  most  plazas,  this  was  a  perfect  jungle  of 
trees,  shrubbery,  grass  and  flowers.  The  pathways 
diverged  from  the  center  like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel, 
while  the  great  trees  met  overhead,  affording  per- 
fect protection  from  the  sun's  rays,  as  also  ample 
and  most  desirable  accommodation  for  all  who 
desire  to  take  their  afternoon's  siesta  on  the  benches 
disposed  along  the  tree-bordered  walks.  The  ground 
was  laid  out  in  flower  beds  in  genuine  hit-or-miss 
fashion,  intersected  by  irrigation  ducts  of  the  small- 
est. These  beds  were  a  mass  of  violets,  purple  fleur- 
de-lis,  roses,  geraniums  and  what  not.  The  roses 
were  a  new  variety  to  me — genuine  products  of 
Arabia,  I  was  told.  Certainly,  I  had  never  seen 


QUIET  CUATRO  CIENEGAS  15 

their  like  or  their  equal  even  in  that  land  so  favored 
of  roses — California.  With  large  petals,  semi- 
double,  of  the  most  beautifully  delicate  shell-like 
pink,  shading  into  translucent  white  near  the  heart, 
and  of  a  sweetness  indescribable,  they  were  easily 
the  queen  of  the  entire  rose  family.  The  delicate, 
evanescent  scent  was  borne  on  the  gentle  breezes  to 
an  unbelievable  distance,  and  to  sit  near  the  rose 
thickets  and  inhale  the  exquisite  odors  was  to  make 
one  dream  he  was  indeed  in  Araby  the  blest.  And 
the  violets !  In  the  deep  shade  of  the  shrubbery,  in 
rich  soil  kept  moist  by  the  constantly  flowing  irriga- 
tion rivulets,  the  plants  grew  heavy  and  dense,  while 
the  blossoms  were  luxuriant  and  odorous  far  beyond 
anything  known  in  less  favored  climes.  They 
seemed  to  exhale  the  very  quintessence  and  concen- 
tration of  countless  millions  that  had  gone  before. 
I  never  inhale  the  odor  of  roses  or  violets  but  the 
memory  of  the  flower  beds  of  the  Cuatro  Cienegas 
plaza,  all  the  more  attractive  because  of  the  very 
irregularity  of  their  arrangement,  comes  back  with 
overwhelming  force,  and  I  long  to  sit  and  dream 
the  idle  hours  away  as  I  so  often  sat  and  dreamed. 
Indeed,  it  seems  now  as  if  it  had  never  been  any- 
thing but  a  dream. 


A  STRANGE  BUSINESS 

O  the  plaza  then !  And  since,  as  will 
be  shown,  "business"  required 
that  an  eye  be  kept  on  the  main 
highway  leading  to  the  desert 
region  to  the  west,  and  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  encircling  range  of  rugged 
mountains,  a  bench  was  selected  beneath  the  thick 
shade  of  a  china-berry  tree  just  across  from  the 
church  between  which  and  the  plaza  passed  the 
highway  aforesaid.  This  bench,  by  the  way,  soon 
became  recognized  as  the  especial  private  appanage 
of  "El  Gringo/'  as  I  quickly  became  known  far 
and  near  (not,  by  the  way,  as  an  expression  of  con- 
tempt and  unfriendliness,  but  merely  because  I  was 
the  Gringo,  and  the  only  stranger  in  the  town), 
and  few  ventured  to  occupy  it  even  during  my  tem- 
porary absence. 

The  "business"  referred  to  was  the  receipt  and 
shipment  to  the  factory  of  quantities  of  the  won- 

16 


A  STRANGE  BUSINESS  17 

derful  rubber  producing  shrub  called  "Guayule,"  a 
desert  growth  once  regarded  as  worthless,  but  which 
in  a  few  short  years  brought  wealth  to  so  many 
of  the  land  owners  and  speculators  of  Northern 
Mexico.  This  was  gathered  in  a  region  a  hundred 
miles  and  more  to  the  northwest  in  the  heart  of  the 
desert,  was  baled  and  hauled  on  wagons  by  mules 
to  the  nearest  railroad  point,  which,  in  this  case,  was 
the  town  of  Cuatro  Cienegas.  There  being  no  ready 
means  of  communication  with  the  guayule  region, 
and  locomotion  by  mule  power  being  necessarily 
slow  and  uncertain  in  such  a  country,  the  arrival  of 
the  wagon  trains,  made  up  of  twenty  great  vehicles 
drawn  by  hosts  of  mules  (attached  to  the  wagons, 
by  the  way,  in  strange  and  incomprehensible  fashion 
— two  "on  the  wheels,"  five  "in  the  swing/'  and 
four  "in  the  lead")  was  all  a  matter  of  chance.  So 
from  daylight  until  dark  it  was  the  writer's  cheer- 
ful business  to  sit  on  the  bench  described,  walk  out 
into  the  middle  of  the  road  at  intervals  of  twenty 
minutes  to  half  an  hour,  and  look  up  the  highway 
some  mile  and  a  half  to  a  point  where  it  left  a 
defile  in  the  mountains  and  debouched  upon  the 
plain.  The  instant  a  cloud  of  dust  appeared  in 
the  distance  of  sufficient  volume  to  denote  the  pos- 
sible advent  of  a  wagon  train — though  it  might  be 


18        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

a  band  of  cattle  or  sheep,  or  a  train  of  donkeys,  or 
anything  except  the  expected  guayule  shipment — a 
coach  was  requisitioned.     A  coach  in  Mexico,  by 
the  way,  is  any  kind  of  a  vehicle  that  carries  pas- 
sengers, from  a  half -spring  Studebaker  wagon  to 
the  finest  product  of  a  French  carriage  maker  of 
the  last  century.     In  the  coach  a  hasty  trip  was 
made  up  the  road  to  meet  the  supposed  train,  though 
three  out  of  four  or  more  of  such  journeys  were 
fruitless,  as  there  were  several  people  engaged  in 
the  same  business  and  many  trains  were  on  the 
road.  Still  there  was  more  or  less  uncertainty  con- 
nected with  the  affair,  and  as  the  wagon  trains 
awaited  by  me  averaged  about  three  trips  every  two 
months,   the   monotonous   character   of   the   daily 
watch  and  examination  of  the  road  may  perhaps  be 
imagined.     Certainly  it  would   require  a  violent 
stretch  of  the  imagination  to  suppose  there  was  any 
undue  excitement  connected  with  the  "business." 


THE  EDUCATED  CROW  THAT  PLAYED 
THE  PIANO 

HE  only  resource  then  was  to  be- 
come interested  in  the  life  that 
went    on    in    and    around    the 
plaza.     One  might  well  be  ex- 
cused for  fancying  that  in  a  place 
of  no  more  than  three  or  four 
thousand  inhabitants,  where  every  one  was  securely 
housed  by  eight  in  the  evening,  not  much  of  interest 
could  be  found  even  from  the  vantage  point  of  the 
center  of  the  town's  activities — the  plaza. 
But  not  so! 

As  will  be  shown,  there  was  an  abundance  of 
interest,  if  one  but  looked  for  it. 

The  first  acquaintance  made  was  a  crow — a  jet 
black  crow!  And  it  was  a  friendly  sort  of  bird, 
too.  One  of  the  choice  products  of  this  region  is 
the  pecan  nut,  and  the  writer  being  fond  of  them 
frequently  filled  his  pocket  with  a  quantity  of 

19 


20        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

already  cracked  ones,  and  consumed  them  while 
waiting  for  the  long  expected  wagon  trains.  Not 
long  after  he  began  his  daylight,  nut-consuming 
vigil,  one  afternoon  a  crow  alighted  on  the  edge  of 
the  gutter  a  dozen  or  fifteen  feet  from  the  settee. 
He  cocked  his  head  first  on  one  side,  then  on  the 
other,  darted  his  bright  eyes  at  the  stranger,  and 
after  due  consideration  evidently  concluded  that 
nothing  was  to  be  feared.  Besides,  he  liked  pecans 
himself!  So  he  hopped  a  foot  or  two  at  a  time 
across  the  sidewalk  nearer  and  nearer  until  he 
reached  the  opposite  end  of  the  settee.  Then  after 
a  quick  glance  of  appraisement  he  hopped  onto  the 
seat,  and  then  to  the  top  rail.  Then  he  slowly  sidled 
along,  watching  closely  for  the  first  sign  of  enmity 
or  interference.  But  care  was  taken  not  to  alarm 
the  bird  and  he  finally  approached  nearer  and  nearer 
until  at  last  within  touching  distance.  A  pecan  held 
out  in  the  open  hand  was  grabbed  like  a  flash,  the 
crow  made  a  short  flight  to  safety,  and  then  stood 
on  the  ground  while  he  ate  the  nut,  afterwards  com- 
ing back  for  more.  Friendship  thus  established, 
soon  we  were  chums  and  greatly  enjoyed  our  com- 
munion. Incidentally  the  crow  enjoyed  the  pecans ! 
Not  long  after  it  was  learned  that  the  bird  was 
the  pet  of  the  young  daughter  of  a  hotel  keeper. 


Packing  Adobes  on  a  Burro 


Rural  Transportation 


THE  EDUCATED  CROW  21 

After  expressing  curiosity  about  the  friendly  crow, 
I  was  amazed  when  I  was  told  it  had  actually  been 
taught  to  pick  out  an  air  on  the  piano  with  its  bill, 
and  upon  evincing  incredulity  I  was  invited  to  wit- 
ness the  proof — which  I  did  and  saw  with  my  own 
eyes  and  heard  with  my  own  ears  the  wonderful 
performance.  And  the  crow  appeared  to  appreciate 
the  fact  that  his  piano  feat  was  unique.  He  cocked 
his  head  on  one  side,  almost  laughed  aloud,  and  his 
attitude  just  as  plainly  said,  "I  am  some  crow,  am 
I  not?"  as  if  he  had  uttered  the  actual  words. 

But  the  bird  developed  a  habit  which  finally  led 
to  his  banishment.  The  hotel  in  question,  like  the 
majority  of  houses  in  the  smaller  towns,  had  no 
windows  such  as  are  known  in  this  country.  The 
window  openings  were  protected  with  perpendicular 
iron  bars,  and  inside  were  solid  shutters  of  wood, 
which  were  left  open  except  at  night.  The  crow 
made  a  practice  of  flying  into  the  windows  through 
the  bars,  picking  up  any  shining  object  from  table 
or  bureau,  flying  out  with  it  in  his  beak,  taking  it 
over  to  the  "hoozegow,"  or  local  jail  on  the  other 
side  of  the  plaza,  and  carefully  depositing  it  in  a 
letter  box  that  was  fastened  by  the  side  of  the  door. 
By  the  way,  the  word  quoted  was  long  a  puzzler. 
Having  lived  many  years  in  California,  it  seemed  to 


22        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

me  to  have  a  distinctive  Chinese  flavor,  and  as  it 
was  usually  pronounced  no  clue  was  afforded  to  its 
actual  etymology.  "Hoozegow?"  What  did  it 
mean?  After  awhile  inquiry  developed  the  fact  that 
the  word  was  "Juzgado"  (court  or  jail),  corrupted 
by  common  usage  into  "hoozegow." 

The  crow  became  such  a  nuisance  and  was  the 
cause  of  so  much  complaint  on  the  part  of  the  guests 
at  the  hotel  that  he  was  finally  donated  to  a  botani- 
cal and  zoological  garden  in  the  city  of  Monterrey, 
greatly  to  the  regret  of  those  who  had  enjoyed  his 
friendship  and  his  antics.  But  he  was  a  fund  of 
amusement  for  a  long  time,  and  helped  many  a 
weary  hour  to  pass  agreeably. 


Jfopli  Jfourtf) 
WHY  THEY  THOUGHT  I  WAS  RUDE 

AME  to  my  reserved  seat  in  the  plaza 
one  day  Don  Martin,  a  typical  Mexi- 
can gentleman,  who  had  done  much 
to  smooth  my  path  and  assist  me  in 
the  prosecution  of  my  enterprise. 

And  just  a  word  by  way  of  preface:  I  arrived 
in  Cuatro  Cienegas  an  absolute  stranger.  Had 
never  been  there,  did  not  know  a  soul,  and  was  far 
more  lost  than  the  historical  cat  in  a  strange  garret 
— supposed  to  represent  the  very  acme  of  loneliness. 
At  that  time  I  did  not  possess  enough  of  the  lan- 
guage of  the  country  to  swear  by,  even  to  swear 
with,  and  scarcely  enough  by  which  to  eat. 

Securing  a  couple  of  rooms,  I  was  busy,  with  the 
help  of  a  peon,  setting  them  to  rights  and  arrang- 
ing the  few  necessary  bits  of  furniture,  when  a  fine- 
looking,  portly  gentleman  of  fifty  or  thereabouts 
knocked  at  the  open  door.  "Pardon  me,"  he  said, 
"my  name  is  Martin  Arredondo.  Some  of  my  peo- 

23 


24        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

pie  told  me  that  a  strange  American  had  arrived  in 
town  with  the  evident  intention  of  remaining. 
Knowing  that  there  were  no  other  foreigners  here, 
and  as  I  am  the  only  native  who  speaks  English,  I 
thought  I  would  call  upon  you  without  delay  and 
place  my  services  at  your  disposal.  If  there  is  any- 
thing in  which  I  can  assist  you,  I  hope  you  will  not 
be  backward  in  coming  to  me." 

And  this  was  no  perfunctory  offer,  either,  made 
out  of  mere  courtesy  and  with  no  expectation  that 
any  use  would  be  made  of  it.  In  all  my  stay  in 
this  town  Don  Martin  more  than  fulfilled  his  prom- 
ise, many  times  doing  me  favors,  as  I  learned  sub- 
sequently, without  solicitation  upon  my  part.  I  was 
indebted  to  him  over  and  over  again  for  courtesies 
and  services  of  the  most  valuable  kind. 

Beyond  giving  me  his  name  and  pointing  out 
the  location  of  his  residence,  my  visitor  did  not 
inform  me  as  to  his  standing  in  the  place,  but 
merely  contented  himself  by  offering  his  assistance 
and  inviting  me  to  call.  Very  soon,  however,  I 
learned  that  he  was  one  of  the  leading  citizens,  an 
extensive  property  owner,  manager  of  a  branch 
bank,  and  in  every  respect  easily  the  foremost  and 
most  influential  resident. 

And  many  a  time  I  thought,  and  still  think:  How 


WHY  THEY  THOUGHT  I  WAS  RUDE  25 

long  would  a  strange  Mexican  in  an  American 
town,  knowing  little  of  the  language  or  customs, 
wait  before  the  leading  banker  and  property  owner 
would  call  upon  him  and  tender  his  services  ?  How 
long,  indeed?  This  question  need  not  be  answered. 
There  isn't  any  answer ! 

But  to  resume. 

Don  Martin  sat  down  by  my  side  and,  after  a 
few  moments  of  conversation,  said : 

"Senor  Semanas,  pardon  me,  but  will  you  permit 
me  to  tell  you  something  that  I  am  sure  will  be  of 
benefit  to  you?" 

I  assured  him  that  there  was  no  necessity  for  his 
asking  my  pardon — that  I  was  only  too  glad  to  have 
him  give  me  any  information  or  make  any  sugges- 
tions that  lay  within  his  power. 

"Very  well,  then.  Some  ladies  were  calling  upon 
my  family  the  other  day,  and  I  overheard  their 
conversation.  After  speaking  of  various  matters, 
they  finally  began  to  talk  about  you,  and  after  won- 
dering as  to  your  business  here,  how  long  you 
expected  to  remain,  etc.,  they  remarked  that  they 
thought  you  had  acted  very  rudely  indeed  during 
your  stay." 

I  was  thunderstruck.  For  a  moment  I  could  not 
find  words.  Then  I  said:  "Why,  Don  Martin, 


26        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

what  could  they  have  meant?  I  have  treated  no 
one  rudely  since  coming  here.  In  fact,  I  have 
hardly  spoken  to  any  one,  and  do  not  know  any  of 
the  ladies  even  by  sight.  How  can  they  accuse  me 
of  having  been  rude?" 

"I  will  explain  it  to  you,"  said  Don  Martin.  "The 
ladies  went  on  to  say,  in  explanation  of  what  they 
thought  was  your  rude  conduct,  that  you  had  been 
here  several  weeks,  that  they  had  seen  you  on  the 
plaza  in  the  evenings  when  there  was  music 
(Wednesdays  and  Sundays),  that  you  had  passed 
them  again  and  again  (the  custom  being  that  the 
women  all  walk  by  themselves  in  one  direction  and 
the  men  by  themselves  in  the  opposite  direction), 
and  in  all  that  time  you  had  never  once  spoken  to 
one  of  them!  They  were  not  accustomed  to  such 
rudeness  of  conduct,  and  wondered  where  you  could 
have  come  from,  that  you  were  so  guilty." 

As  soon  as  I  could  catch  my  breath  I  said:  "Why, 
Don  Martin,  in  California  where  I  lived  many 
years,  and  in  all  other  portions  of  the  United  States, 
if  a  man  dare  speak  to  a  lady  to  whom  he  has  not 
been  introduced,  or  unless  she  speaks  to  him  first,  he 
is  apt  to  find  himself  in  very  serious  trouble — even 
in  jail.  And,  naturally,  I  supposed  the  same  rule 
prevailed  here." 


WHY  THEY  THOUGHT  I  WAS  RUDE  27 

"We  have  different  customs  here,  especially  in 
small  towns  like  this.  If  a  stranger  considers  him- 
self to  be  a  gentleman  and  the  equal  of  the  people 
whom  he  meets  on  the  plaza  during  the  music,  it  is 
his  duty  to  speak  to  every  lady  whom  he  passes.  If 
he  does  not  do  this,  he  is  regarded  as  a  boor  and 
very  ill  bred." 

I  thanked  Don  Martin  for  his  kindness,  and  gave 
the  very  pleasant  ladies  of  Cuatro  Cienegas  no  fur- 
ther occasion  for  criticism  on  this  account.  Inci- 
dentally, I  made  some  very  interesting  and  enjoy- 
able acquaintances. 


Jftftf) 

THE  DEVOUT  PRAYING  CRIPPLE. 

"And  the  publican,  standing  afar  off    ...    smote  upon 
his  breast,  saying  'God  be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner.' " 

Y  reserved  seat  in  the  park  was,  as 
stated,  across  the  street  from  the 
church,  though  not  directly  in 
front  of  it.  The  main  door  of  the 
religious  edifice  was  usually  open,  affording  a  view 
of  the  dim  interior  and  of  the  altar  lights  in  the 
rear.  It  is  the  universal  custom  in  places  of  this 
size  and  location,  when  passing  a  church,  to  lift 
one's  hat,  and,  wishing  to  conciliate  the  people  and 
to  show  respect  for  their  sentiments,  I  soon  fell  into 
the  habit.  Another  peculiarity  of  churches  in  many 
places  is  that  there  are  no  pews  and  no  seats  except 
such  as  the  worshipers  provide  for  themselves.  It 
is  a  frequent  sight  to  see  a  party  of  ladies  and 
children  passing  along  the  street  toward  the  church, 
followed  by  a  servant  carrying  an  armful  of  fold- 
ing chairs.  So,  too,  with  theaters  in  many  towns. 

28 


THE    DEVOUT    PRAYING    CRIPPLE  29 

One  is  expected  to  bring  his  own  chair,  or  be  con- 
tent to  stand  throughout  the  performance. 

Soon  after  establishing  myself  as  a  more  or  less 
permanent  resident  in  the  plaza,  I  noted  an  old,  old 
man,  a  crippled  hunchback,  who  came  regularly 
thither,  and  taking  up  his  position  on  the  outer- 
most edge  of  the  curbstone,  exactly  in  front  of  the 
main  door  of  the  church,  engaged  for  long  periods 
in  the  most  earnest  devotions.  His  conduct  re- 
minded one  irresistibly  of  that  of  the  publican  re- 
ferred to  in  the  quotation,  and  in  one's  mind  one 
could  readily  see  the  Pharisees  praying  in  public 
and  thanking  God  that  they  were  not  as  other  men 
— though  far  be  it  from  me  to  even  hint  that  there 
were  any  of  this  class  in  Cuatro  Cienegas ! 

Always  he  began  by  lifting  his  eyes  reverently  to 
the  cross  that  crowned  the  church  tower,  then  bowed 
his  head,  crossed  himself,  and  as  could  be  seen  by 
the  movement  of  his  lips,  repeated  a  prayer. 

Then  his  glance  came  down  to  the  doorway  and 
the  lights  of  the  altar  in  the  background,  and  again 
he  bowed,  crossed  himself,  and  again  offered  a 
prayer,  crossing  his  arms  repeatedly  over  his  breast 
as  he  did  so.  This  was  all  by  way  of  preliminary. 
After  these  acts  of  devotion,  he  yet  again  bowed  his 
head,  closed  his  eyes,  and  with  crossed  arms  on 


30        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

breast,  stood  for  half  an  hour  and  more  at  a  time, 
motionless  as  a  statue,  bareheaded  in  the  blazing  hot 
sun,  with  moving  lips  and  with  an  expression  on  his 
face  of  the  deepest  reverence.  Occasionally  he  re- 
moved his  arms  from  their  position  on  his  breast 
and  made  the  sign  of  the  cross,  but  for  the  most 
part  the  only  movement  that  could  be  detected  was 
that  of  his  lips.  He  seemed  lost  in  thought  and 
entirely  oblivious  to  the  life  that  was  going  on 
about  him.  The  playfully  mischievous  boys,  ready 
enough  to  ridicule  or  torment  anything  out  of  the 
ordinary  in  the  way  of  human  kind,  passed  him  by 
in  silence  and  respected  his  devotions.  These  lasted 
generally  for  an  hour  or  thereabouts,  and  when  he 
turned  to  depart  there  was  an  expression  of  rapt 
spiritual  elevation  upon  his  countenance  that  was 
good  to  see.  Surely  there  could  be  no  doubt  on  the 
part  of  the  observer  that,  whether  one  believe  in  the 
efficacy  of  prayer  or  not,  this  poor  cripple,  seem- 
ingly with  nothing  in  life  left  worth  living  for, 
found  deep  satisfaction  in  this  silent  worship. 

Singularly  enough,  in  all  the  time  that  this  devout 
man  came  under  my  observation,  I  never  saw  him 
enter  the  church.  He  was  always  content  to  stand 
afar  off,  lift  up  his  eyes  to  the  cross,  and  pray. 
Throngs  might  be  passing  in  and  out  of  the  sacred 


THE    DEVOUT    PRAYING    CRIPPLE  31 

edifice,  but  he  never  joined  them.  Whether  it  was 
as  a  penance  that  he  denied  himself  this  privilege,  I 
was  never  able  to  learn.  But  those  of  a  devout  dis- 
position frequently  impose  such  punishments  upon 
themselves,  and  appear  to  take  deep  delight  in  in- 
flicting spiritual  as  well  as  bodily  pain  upon  their 
own  minds  and  bodies. 

But  that  the  poor  cripple  found  an  inexpressible 
satisfaction  in  thus  worshiping  could  plainly  enough 
be  seen. 

By  the  way,  speaking  of  church-going  customs  in 
Mexico,  there  is  one  very  admirable  practice,  that 
might  well  find  imitation  elsewhere.  The  Mexi- 
can women  do  not  go  to  church  to  show  their  finery 
(far  be  it  from  me  to  insinuate  that  there  are  any 
women  of  any  nationality  who  actually  do  that), 
for  the  simple  reason  that  they  have  no  opportunity 
to  make  any  such  display.  Whether  it  is  a  church 
rule  or  only  a  custom,  I  do  not  know,  but  I  do 
know  that  all  women  attending  church  wear  plain 
black,  and  nothing  else.  There  is  nothing  to  dis- 
tinguish the  rich  from  the  poor,  except  the  quality 
of  the  fabric.  In  cut,  color  and  fashion  there  is  no 
difference.  In  Mexican  churches  "the  rich  and  the 
poor  meet  together — the  Lord  is  the  maker  of 
them  all." 


32        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

There  is  one  day  when  the  custom  is  not  fol- 
lowed— on  Easter  Sunday,  at  the  later  services  of 
the  day.  At  the  first  service  all  attend  in  sober 
black.  At  the  subsequent  ones  they  wear  all  the 
seasonable  colors  and  the  sight  is  well  worth  see- 
ing too. 


3fopU  fetxtfj 

REGULAR  PRIVATE  BEGGARS  ON 
REGULAR  DAYS 

T  is  Wednesday  or  Saturday,  as  the 
case  may  be.  If  I  have  left  my 
room  early  and  taken  up  my  usual 
station  in  the  plaza  under  my  favor- 
ite china-berry  tree,  then  my  "regular  beggars"  fol- 
low me  thither.  Never  by  any  chance  do  they  lose 
sight  of  me  on  the  days  designated.  For  be  it 
known,  in  small  towns  like  this  as  well  as  in  some 
of  the  larger  ones,  there  are  "regular"  beggars'  days 
when  mendicants  are  allowed  to  make  application 
for  alms,  being  not  supposed  or  permitted  to  do  so 
on  the  other  days.  And  each  person  not  himself  a 
beggar  has  his  regular  private  ones  who  call  him 
their  "patron"  ( with  a  long  "o").  Only  on  Wednes- 
days and  Saturdays  are  one's  regular  beggars  ex- 
pected to  approach  him,  and  woe  betide  the  irregu- 
lar ones  whether  they  annoy  him  on  regular  or 
irregular  days.  They  are  not  permitted  to  poach 


34        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

upon  the  preserves  of  the  regulars  at  any  time,  and 
some  rather  warm  scraps  have  been  witnessed  when 
such  attempts  have  been  made.  The  favored  beg- 
gars are  very  jealous  of  their  privileges,  and  forci- 
bly resent  any  attempt  to  deprive  them  thereof. 

Of  course,  at  the  outset  one  makes  his  choice 
among  the  multitude  of  applicants,  endeavoring  to 
select  the  most  deserving  as  may  appear  to  him, 
and  also  in  keeping  with  the  reasonable  possibilities 
cf  his  pocket  in  this  direction.  In  this  case,  early 
in  my  stay  in  Cuatro  Cienegas,  on  the  regular  days 
a  crowd  of  mendicants — about  all  there  were  in 
town,  as  I  judged — flocked  at  my  door,  as  I  was 
not  at  that  time  posted  upon  the  practice  described. 
Foreigner  and  millionaire  are  synonymous  in  the 
native  mind.  Acting  upon  advice,  I  finally  selected 
three  whom  I  considered  the  most  deserving.  One 
was  a  cripple  who  had,  besides  having  his  legs 
mangled,  lost  his  eyesight  by  a  premature  explosion 
of  dynamite  in  a  mine.  His  only  possession  was  a 
violin,  and  this  he  was  accustomed  to  play  in  front 
of  the  doors  of  his  patrons,  as  a  sort  of  notification 
of  his  presence,  as  well  as  of  appreciation  for  their 
benevolence.  It  was  impossible  to  look  at  this  poor 
blind  wreck  of  what  had  once  been  a  stalwart 
miner  without  feeling  the  deepest  sympathy  for  him. 


PQ  c 


REGULAR  PRIVATE  BEGGARS       35 

Another  of  the  select  trio  was  a  man  who  walked 
about  on  his  hands  and  feet,  wearing  sandals  on 
both  and  never  straightening  up.  He  afforded  a 
weird  enough  spectacle,  and  in  his  case  too  it  was 
impossible  not  to  pity  him.  He  was  said  to  have 
been  born  deformed  and  never  to  have  been  able 
to  stand  upright,  and  so  to  have  had  to  go  through 
life  in  this  ungainly  and  painful  position. 

The  third  of  my  private  beggars  was  a  poor,  half- 
witted boy  of  twelve  or  thirteen.  He  could  not 
speak  a  word.  Uncouth  noises  like  those  of  an 
animal  were  the  only  sounds  he  was  capable  of 
uttering.  He  was  the  butt  of  some  of  the  cruel 
boys  of  the  town,  who  used  to  torment  him  solely 
in  order  to  see  him  in  his  speechless  rage. 

As  soon  as  I  had  made  my  selections,  the  three 
favored  ones  saw  to  it  that  no  others  were  per- 
mitted to  apply,  and  a  very  rough,  not  to  say  pain- 
ful, reception  was  given  any  who  dared  seek  charity 
from  me.  But  after  a  while  it  appeared  that  one 
case  was  not  quite  so  deserving  as  it  appeared  on 
the  surface.  This  was  the  man  who  walked  on  all 
fours.  One  day  Don  Martin  saw  me  give  him 
some  money  and  after  he  had  left,  asked:  "Why 
do  you  give  that  man  money?" 

"Why?    Because  he  is  a  cripple  and  in  misery." 


36       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

"Yes,  it  is  true  he  is  a  cripple  and  I  do  not 
wonder  at  your  sympathy  for  him !  But  he  has  no 
need  to  beg.  He  is  far  better  off  than  you.  He 
has  a  fine  ranch  near  Monclova,  and  several  houses 
in  that  town,  from  which  he  receives  very  good 
rentals — enough  to  support  himself  and  his  wife  in 
comfort.  He  only  begs  because  he  knows  people 
pity  him  and  will  give  him  money  without  inquiry." 

Further  investigation  showed  that  this  was  indeed 
the  case,  and  he  was  cut  off  the  free  list  promptly 
and  decisively. 

Said  another  friend  one  day  upon  seeing  me 
give  money  to  the  blind  man: 

"Why  do  you  give  money  to  that  man?  Do  you 
know  what  he  does  with  it?  He  gets  drunk." 

I  looked  at  the  cripple — at  his  poor,  sightless  eyes, 
at  his  maimed  legs,  at  his  burned  and  scarred  face, 
at  his  general  appearance  of  misery,  and  then 
replied: 

"Well,  so  would  /  get  drunk  if  I  were  in  his 
condition." 

I  found  after  a  while  that  when  I  gave  money 
to  the  half-witted  boy  other  lads  attacked  him  and 
took  it  away,  he  not  being  able  to  protect  himself. 
So  I  arranged  to  always  have  some  food  in  my 
room  on  the  "regular  beggar  days,"  and  when  the 


REGULAR  PRIVATE  BEGGARS       37 

pitiful  little  chap  appeared,  always  by  sunrise  on 
his  regular  days,  I  gave  it  to  him  and  had  him  sit 
in  the  door  under  my  care  until  it  was  consumed. 

Later  I  learned  that  soon  after  I  left  the  place, 
this  little  sufferer  was  taken  by  death — a  happy 
ending  for  a  life  that  had  been  nothing  but  misery 
to  him.  But  I  can  still  hear  the  inarticulate  noises 
he  was  accustomed  to  make  when  he  was  tormented 
by  the  cruel  boys.  It  was  horrible — no  less.  True, 
those  boys  learned  something  about  what  an  angry 
foreigner  looked  and  talked  like,  and  were  careful 
to  let  the  poor  little  chap  alone  when  in  my  presence. 


&efeentf) 


"YOU  MAY  PAY  ME  WHATEVER 
YOU  PLEASE" 

me  one  exceedingly  hot  day, 
while  sitting  in  the  shade  of  the 
china-berry,  and  while  a  number 
of  others  were  seeking  relief 
from  the  excessive  heat  under 
the  neighboring  trees,  came  a  teamster,  one  Juan 
Trevino,  every  inch  a  gentleman,  notwithstanding 
his  humble  calling.  He  had  done  much  work  for 
me,  hauling  goods  to  and  from  the  railway  station, 
a  mile  or  more  out  of  town,  and  we  had  become 
very  well  acquainted. 

But  first  a  few  words  of  preface.  It  is  a  favorite 
practice  of  many  who  are  engaged  in  performing 
public  services  for  which  perhaps  there  is  no  fixed 
charge,  to  reply,  when  asked  what  amount  is  due: 
"Whatever  you  wish  to  pay  me."  This  is  more 
frequently  the  case  when  dealing  with  foreigners 
than  with  fellow-countrymen.  The  average  for- 
eigner will  "stand"  for  an  overcharge  and  is  usually 

38 


"PAY  ME  WHATEVER  YOU  PLEASE"  39 

willing  to  pay  liberally  for  services  that  the  native 
only  rewards  moderately — sufficiently,  it  is  true.  It 
is  a  favorite  criticism  among  some  Mexicans  that 
the  Americans  have  spoiled  the  help  of  the  country 
by  too  liberal  compensation,  though  this  is  as 
may  be. 

Thus,  in  Cuatro  Cienegas  the  regular  rate  as 
established  by  law  for  carrying  passengers  between 
the  town  and  the  railway  station  was  twenty  cents 
— ten  cents  American  currency.  Naturally,  but  few 
foreigners  were  aware  of  this,  and  consequently, 
after  landing  at  the  hotel,  when  they  asked  the 
driver  the  amount  of  the  fare,  the  usual  reply  was 
"Whatever  you  like,  Sefior."  Thereupon  the  pas- 
senger, nine  times  out  of  ten,  would  throw  a  half 
dollar  to  the  driver  and  think  he  was  getting  off 
cheaply.  Because  of  the  known  liberality  of  for- 
eigners in  such  matters,  the  native  always  prefers 
to  trust  to  that  trait  rather  than  to  the  legal  charges. 

So  with  Juan  Trevino,  teamster  and  gentleman. 
He  had  done  much  work  for  me,  and  as  he  always 
replied  to  my  query  as  to  the  amount  due,  "What- 
ever you  please,  Sefior,"  by  tacit  understanding 
there  was  a  sort  of  agreement  that  $1.50  was  a  fair 
and  reasonable  rate  of  compensation  for  a  single 
trip  to  or  from  the  station  with  an  ordinary  load. 


40        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

On  the  occasion  referred  to,  a  whim  seized  me 
and  when  he  gave  the  customary  reply — "What- 
ever you  please,  Sefior" — I  did  not  at  once  pay 
him,  but  said: 

"Juan,  just  what  do  you  mean  by  that  ?  Do  you 
really  mean  that  you  will  be  satisfied  with  anything 
I  choose  to  give  you  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  mean  just  that.  If  you  choose  to 
give  me  one  cent,  or  ten  cents,  or  fifty  cents,  or  one 
dollar,  or  two  dollars,  or  five  dollars,  or  ten  dollars, 
it  is  all  the  same  to  me.  I  shall  be  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  whatever  you  choose  to  give  me." 

Wishing  to  make  a  test,  but  entirely  as  a  joke, 
I  thereupon  handed  him  one  of  the  old-fashioned 
"cart-wheel"  copper  cents  that  used  to  circulate  in 
Mexico  as  they  once  did  in  the  United  States,  and 
which  I  was  carrying  as  a  souvenir. 

He  accepted  it,  did  not  look  at  all  surprised  or 
discomposed  at  being  thus  taken  at  his  word, 
thanked  me  in  his  customarily  polite  manner  and 
withdrew  a  little  to  one  side.  The  spectators, 
mostly  drivers  like  himself,  gave  a  yell  of  derision 
and  bestowed  all  sorts  of  mockery  upon  their  com- 
panion. But  he  only  smiled  and  never  said  a  word. 
I  waited  a  bit  until  the  storm  of  ridicule  had  sub- 


• 


"PAY  ME  WHATEVER  YOU  PLEASE"  41 

sided  and  then  called  to  him  to  come  nearer,  which 
he  did,  still  with  a  smile  on  his  face.  Then  I  said : 

"Juan,  I  was  only  joking.  I  did  not  mean  that 
you  should  do  that  work  for  only  one  cent.  Here 
is  the  usual  price,"  tendering  him  three  silver  half- 
dollars. 

But  he  would  have  none  of  it.  He  refused  most 
positively  to  accept  the  money  and  no  amount  of 
persuasion  served  to  change  his  mind. 

"Sefior,  I  told  you  that  I  would  be  perfectly  satis- 
fied with  anything  you  chose  to  give  me — whether 
it  was  a  cent,  or  ten  cents,  or  half  a  dollar,  or  one 
dollar,  or  two  dollars,  or  five  dollars,  or  ten  dollars. 
You  chose  to  give  me  one  cent.  I  have  taken  it. 
I  am  perfectly  satisfied.  You  do  not  owe  me  any- 
thing. I  do  not  want  any  more  money.  I  am  a 
man  of  my  word !" 

Nor  could  he  be  persuaded  to  accept  the  money 
,  and  I  was  forced  to  actually  put  it  in  his  vest  pocket 
against  his  will,  and  to  insist  upon  his  understand- 
ing that  I  had  no  intention  to  defraud  him  of  his 
just  dues;  that  it  was  all  a  joke,  and  I  wanted  him 
as  a  personal  favor  to  take  the  money. 

A  little  bootblack  gave  me  an  amusing  experience 
in  the  same  direction.  He  came  to  my  settee  one 
Sunday  morning  and  I  told  him  to  black  my  shoes. 


42        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

I  had  seen  him  doing  the  same  thing  for  some  shoe- 
wearing  peones  on  a  neighboring  seat  and  accept- 
ing from  them  the  regular  tariff  of  two  cents.  He 
knew,  too,  that  I  had  seen  the  transaction  and  the 
passage  of  the  money.  So  when  he  had  completed 
the  task  I  asked  him  the  usual  question — "How 
much  do  I  owe  you?" 

He  hesitated,  looked  earnestly  into  my  face,  while 
an  expression  of  indecision  passed  over  his  counte- 
nance. He  was  afraid  to  demand  more  than  he 
had  asked  of  the  peones,  under  the  law  he  could 
not,  yet  he  decidedly  wanted  a  better  price  from 
"El  Gringo"  and  was  puzzled  how  to  go  about  it. 
Finally,  after  quite  a  period  of  hesitation,  he  des- 
perately blurted  out:  "Whatever  you  please, 
Sefior."  He  was  rewarded  with  the  price  that  I 
had  always  been  accustomed  to  pay — ten  cents  Mex. 

But  I  shall  never  forget  how  the  little  chap 
studied  my  face  while  making  up  his  mind,  nor  the 
expression  of  happiness  when  he  found  that  he  had 
"taken  a  chance"  and  not  been  disappointed.  I 
tried  my  best  to  keep  my  face  stern  and  sober  while 
waiting  for  his  decision,  but  I  fancy  he  must  have 
seen  a  sort  of  friendly  twinkle  of  amusement  in  my 
eyes,  for  he  at  length  took  the  plunge  and  an- 
nounced his  momentous  determination. 


NOVEL  METHOD  OF  HANDLING  MEAT 

NE  of  the  oddest  sights,  perhaps, 
could  be  seen  on  the  plaza  early 
in  the  morning  before  school 
"takes  in,"  Boys  are  sent  to  the 
butcher  shops  for  the  daily  supply  of  meat — such 
places  being  designated  by  no  other  sign  than  a  red 
flag  displayed  on  a  bamboo  pole  over  the  doorway 
of  the  establishment.  Which  led  to  a  specimen  of 
the  genus  "turista"  remarking,  upon  looking  down 
a  populous  street  and  seeing  a  half-dozen  of  these 
blood  red  banners  fluttering  in  the  breeze:  "Why, 
they  must  have  a  lot  of  scarlet  fever  here.  Look  at 
the  quarantine  flags!  Let  us  get  out  of  here  as 
quickly  as  possible."  And  they  went! 

Instead  of  wrapping  the  purchase  in  paper,  as  in 
this  country,  a  bit  of  string  or  maguey  fiber  is  tied 
around  it,  long  enough  to  permit  of  a  loop  in  the 
free  end,  which  is  passed  around  the  purchaser's 
wrist,  and  he  starts  for  home. 

43 


44        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

Just  imagine  a  bunch  of  American  boys  thus 
equipped!  The  result  need  scarcely  be  hinted  at. 
One  boy  takes  a  "swipe"  at  another  with  his  beef- 
steak, or  veal  cutlet,  or  slice  of  liver,  or  pork  or 
mutton  chop.  The  other  boy  quite  naturally  re- 
sponds in  kind.  The  friends  of  both  come  to  the 
support  of  their  champions,  and  a  real  nice,  inter- 
esting little  fracas  follows,  which  only  serves  to 
bloody  the  noses  and  faces  of  the  combatants,  to 
muss  them  up  generally,  but  does  not  injure  the 
meat  in  the  least — perhaps  makes  it  a  bit  more 
tender !  It  is  indeed  a  sight  worth  seeing ! 

But  not  always  do  the  boys  fight  with  the  meat. 
They  all  have  pockets  full  of  marbles,  and  one 
challenges  another  to  a  game  "for  keeps."  The 
challenge  is  accepted.  Half  a  dozen  boys  join  in 
the  game.  They  lay  their  steaks  and  chops  and 
cutlets  and  roasts  down  on  the  grass,  or  if  there  is 
none,  then  on  the  ground — small  care  have  they  as 
to  the  place  of  deposit!  Then  to  play  most  ear- 
nestly, oblivious  of  the  fact  that  breakfast  may  be 
waiting  the  prompt  delivery  of  the  meat.  The  ever 
present  dog  is  on  hand,  of  course,  in  greater  or 
lesser  numbers,  and  they  eye  the  toothsome  morsels 
so  carelessly  lying  there  on  the  ground. 

The  boys  become  so  absorbed  in  their  game  that 


NOVEL  METHOD  OF  HANDLING  MEAT  45 

they  are  entirely  careless  of  their  canine  compan- 
ions, pay  no  attention  to  them,  and  soon  one  makes 
a  rush,  grabs  one  of  the  chops  or  steaks  or  cutlets, 
as  the  case  may  be,  and  dashes  madly  for  a  place  of 
safety,  followed  by  the  entire  band  of  four-footed 
companions.  And  then  a  battle  royal  is  waged  for 
a  mouthful  of  the  stolen  dainty. 

And  then,  when  the  game  is  finished  and  an 
account  of  stock  is  taken,  the  chopless  or  steak- 
less  boy  goes  crying  homeward — though  why  he 
should  cry  I  do  not  know,  for  never  once  in  ten 
years  of  life  and  travel  in  Mexico  did  I  see  a  child 
punished  with  violence  by  a  parent.  It  is  only  in 
more  highly  civilized  (?)  countries  that  angry 
parents  beat  and  thrash  and  maul  their  children 
for  some  youthful  offense  of  carelessness  or  heed- 
lessness — in  Mexico  never! 

Barbarous  Mexico?  ? 


LITTLE  JUAN  JOSE  WONG  AND  HIS 
SISTER  "LUPE" 

T  is  midday.  "High  noon  by  the  old 
town  clock."  In  this  case,  the  church 
clock.  School,  which  has  been  in 
session  since  eight  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  is  "out."  (How  would  American  chil- 
dren like  to  be  kept  at  their  studies  four  long  hours 
on  a  stretch?  This  in  the  forenoon  and  another 
long  three  hours  in  the  afternoon?)  Up  the  main 
street  and  across  the  plaza  comes  a  stream  of  youth 
of  both  sexes,  home-and-dinner  bound — for  dinner 
is  a  midday  meal  in  Mexico.  It  is  an  interesting 
sight — as  children  always  are.  Mexican  children 
are  just  like  others  too — strangely  enough,  consider- 
ing the  fact  that  many  Americans  and  other  for- 
eigners seem  inclined  to  doubt  their  possession  of 
the  same  sort  of  feelings  and  the  same  sort  of 
capabilities  as  their  own. 

46 


LITTLE  JUAN  JOSE  WONG  47 

These  children  play  "tag,"  and  "peg  top,"  and 
"duck  on  the  rock"  (the  most  ancient  child's  game 
in  the  world),  and  "marbles,"  and  "hide  and  seek," 
and  other  games  dear  to  the  childish  heart  in  every 
country  under  the  sun.  They  fly  kites  and  enjoy  all 
the  sports  known  to  childhood  the  world  around. 
And  they  play  bullfight,  too!  And  right  lively 
times  they  have  of  it!  One  boy  is  "it,"  and  the 
others  take  off  their  coats  and  flaunt  them  in  his 
face,  just  as  if  they  were  the  red  capes  of  the  real 
bullfighters.  And  the  boy  who  is  "it"  charges  and 
bellows  and  paws  the  ground  and  throws  dust  in  the 
air,  like  a  sure-enough  bull,  and  occasionally  makes 
a  swift  dash  at  one  of  his  supposed  tormentors  and 
rolls  him  in  the  dust,  to  the  great  merriment  of  the 
other  participants  and  of  the  onlookers  as  well. 

Most  of  the  kiddies  soon  become  acquainted  with 
''El  Gringo,"  and  have  a  pleasant  smile  and  greet- 
ing for  him.  Especial  favorites,  however,  are  little 
rolypoly  black-eyed  Juan  Jose  Wong  and  his  dear 
little  sister  "Lupe,"  that  being  the  two-syllabled 
diminutive  for  Guadalupe,  a  favorite  name  in  this 
country  for  men  as  well  as  women,  taken  from  the 
much  revered  patron  saint  of  Mexico,  the  Virgin 
of  Guadalupe.  As  may  perhaps  be  imagined  from 
the  names,  these  children  are  the  offspring  of  a 


48        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

Chinese  father  and  a  Mexican  mother — and  it  is 
notable  how  women  of  the  better  peon  class  are  so 
willing  to  take  a  Chinese  husband.  There  are  any 
number  of  such  unions  all  over  the  country,  and  it  is 
a  marked  peculiarity  that  the  women  are  almost  in- 
variably the  best  looking  of  their  class. 

And  the  children !  They  are  pretty,  attractive  in 
person  and  manner,  bright  and  intelligent.  Down 
at  Monclova,  the  big  railroad  town  forty  miles 
away,  is  a  school  entirely  devoted  to  the  education 
of  the  children  of  such  couples,  and  the  teachers 
have  assured  me  that  no  equal  number  of  pupils 
in  this  country,  or  any  other  for  that  matter,  could 
surpass  these  for  quickness  of  apprehension  or 
ability  to  learn  with  rapidity.  Few  indeed  could 
equal  them. 

Little  Juan  Jose's  father  and  mother  are  good 
friends  of  mine  and  when  he  and  his  sister  pass 
from  school  they  always  stop  and  we  have  a  little 
chat.  Juan  Jose  proudly  shows  his  books  and  the 
slate  upon  which  is  his  daily  task,  evincing  great 
satisfaction  thereat!  Their  books  are  looked  over, 
and  perhaps  some  candy  or  nuts  pass  more  or  less 
surreptitiously  from  "El  Gringo"  to  his  little 
friends.  Who  knows?  Anyhow,  the  little  ones 
soon  shake  hands  in  farewell  (even  the  smallest 


LITTLE  JUAN  JOSE  WONG 


49 


children  are  taught  to  salute  their  elders  thus  both 
on  meeting  and  separating),  and  they  pass  on 
homeward,  halting  and  turning  to  give  a  friendly 
hand  wave  and  another  smile  to  the  lonely 
foreigner. 


THE  CRIMEAN  WAR  AND  THE 
MEXICAN  PLAZA 

"Half  a  league,  half  a  league,  half  a  league  onward, 
Into  the  jaws  of  death,  into  the  mouth  of  hell, 
Rode  the  Six  Hundred!" 

HO  among  us  who  was  a  school- 
boy fifty  years  and  more  ago, 
is  there  who  did  not  on  a 
Friday  afternoon,  when  the 
hated  and  much  dreaded  hour  for  "speaking  pieces'5 
came  around,  recite  "The  Charge  of  the  Light 
Brigade  ?"  How  we  rolled  it  out !  What  a  pleasure 
it  was  to  be  able  to  utter  in  public  and  under  the 
cold  official  eye  a  word  which,  when  used  privately 
and  in  strictly  personal  matters  and  discussions, 
brought  condign  punishment  if  overheard  by  our 
elders  or  those  in  authority.  How  we  did  love  to  be 
able  to  talk  from  the  platform  about  people  going  to 
hell,  while  if  we  did  the  same  kind  of  talking,  only 
not  in  poetical  fashion,  on  the  playground,  we  were 

50 


THE  CRIMEAN  WAR  51 

so  sure  to  catch  something  of  the  same  kind !  Why, 
it  was  almost  as  good  as  being  a  minister  and  being 
able  to  talk  about  hell-fire  and  damnation  right  out 
in  public ! 

We  began  our  youthful  "piece  speaking"  with: 

"You'd  scarce  expect  one  of  my  age 
To  speak  in  public  on  the  stage," 

Or: 

"Twinkle,  twinkle,  little  star, 
How  I  wonder  what  you  are." 

Or  with: 

"How  big  was  Alexander,  pa, 
That  people  called  him  great?" 

From  that  we  progressed  to: 

"The  breaking  waves  dashed  high 
On  a  stern  and  rock-bound  coast." 

Then  came: 

"The  boy  stood  on  the  burning  deck 
Whence  all  but  he  had  fled." 

And  lost  his  life  because  he  had  not  good  plain 
common  sense  enough  to  know  that  his  father  must 
surely  have  perished  and  would  have  wished  him 
to  leave  the  burning  vessel  with  the  others.  In  duty 
bound  of  course  we  had  to  publicly  admire  the  devo- 
tion of  the  lad  in  waiting  for  orders  from  his  dead 
parent,  and  incidentally  waiting  to  be  blown  to 
smithereens  when  all  had  sought  safety  elsewhere. 


52        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

Away  down  in  our  own  hearts  we  thought  he  was  a 
bit  of  a  prig  and  we  could  not  see  anything  very 
noble  in  throwing  one's  life  away  in  that  manner. 
Far  better  to  have  gone  with  the  others  and  lived 
to  fight  another  day.  It  seemed  to  us  that  that 
would  have  been  the  better  way  to  have  rendered 
service  to  one's  country.  Anyhow,  we  did  not  be- 
lieve the  story.  There  never  was  such  a  boy! 
There  couldn't  be — except  in  Sunday  School  books ! 
A  great  favorite  too  was  "Excelsior !"  How  the 
teacher  did  struggle  with  us  while  we  singsonged 
our  way  through: 

"The  shades  of  night  were  falling  fast 
As  through  an  Alpine  village  passed,"  etc. 

And  tried  to  make  us  give  the  proper  emphasis  to 
each  "Excelsior"  at  the  end  of  a  stanza. 

Then  too  there  was  the  famous  "Marco  Bozzaris" 
of  the  Greek  revolution  and  its  ringing: 

"Strike  till  the  last  armed  foe  expires! 
Strike  for  your  altars  and  your  fires! 
Strike  for  the  green  graves  of  your  sires, 
God  and  your  native  land!" 

My,  how  we  did  love  to  bring  out  those  last  four 
lines!  How  we  did  shout  them  and  thrash  the  air 
with  our  arms  and  our  imaginary  swords,  and 


THE  CRIMEAN  WAR  53 

waste  no  pity  on  the  Turk  who  at  midnight  slept  in 
his  guarded  tent  and  never  dreamed  what  we  were 
doing  to  him! 

Then  came  the  Civil  War  and  its  accompanying 
flood  of  martial  "poetry"  and  otherwise.  We  told 
on  the  school  platform  all  about  the  fight  between 
the  Monitor  and  the  Merrimac.  We  told  how: 

"At  anchor  in  Hampton  Roads  we  lay 
On  board  of  the  Cumberland  sloop  of  war." 

And  how: 

"Then  like  a  kraken,  huge  and  black, 
She  crushed  our  ribs  in  her  iron  grasp." 

We  hadn't  the  faintest  idea  what  a  "kraken"  was, 
but  it  was  a  fine  sounding  word  and  we  could  make 
the  little  ones  fairly  goggle-eyed  with  our  fierceness. 

And  then  came  dear  old  Barbara  Frietchie !  We 
had  it  early  and  we  had  it  bad  in  our  little  old 
New  Jersey  school !  And  to  this  day,  considerably 
more  than  fifty  years  later,  I  can  recite  every  word 
of  it,  from 

"Up  from  the  meadows  rich  with  corn, 
Clear  in  the  cool  September  morn," 

Clear  down  to: 

"And  ever  the  stars  above  look  down 
On  thy  stars  below  at  Frederick  Town." 


54        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  the  shady  re- 
served seat  of  "El  Gringo"  under  the  china-berry 
tree  in  a  far-off  and  lonely  Mexican  village? 

It  is  a  far  cry  from  the  bloody  battle  fields  of 
Sebastopol  and  Inkermann  and  Balaklava  and  Alma 
to  quiet,  peaceful  little  Cuatro  Cienegas.  It  is  a 
long  distance  chronologically  from  the  stirring 
events  of  the  Crimean  war  in  the  early  fifties  down 
to  the  tenth  year  of  the  twentieth  century!  Three 
score  years  have  passed  and  what  possible  connec- 
tion can  there  be? 

We  shall  see! 

I  am  sitting  in  my  favorite  shaded  nook,  my 
friend  and  instructor  in  things  Mexican  (Don 
Martin)  by  my  side.  We  are  idly  watching  the 
people  passing  in  and  out  of  the  hotel  on  the  corner 
half  a  block  away.  A  stranger  (to  me)  emerges 
and  comes  toward  us.  He  is  a  spare,  upstanding 
man,  with  snow  white  hair  and  mustache,  face  finely 
wrinkled  and  tanned  by  the  desert  sun  till  it  is  a 
deep  umber,  but  withal  he  strikes  out  briskly  despite 
the  heat  and  carries  himself  like  a  soldier — which 
indeed  he  is,  or  rather  was. 

As  he  approaches,  Don  Martin  says:  "Here 
comes  a  man  whom  you  have  often  told  me  you 
would  like  to  meet.  He  lives  in  Ocampo,  away  out 


THE   CRIMEAN  WAR  55 

on  the  desert,  and  he  is  the  owner  of  those  decora- 
tions which  are  in  my  safe  and  which  I  showed  you 
when  you  first  came  here.  I  will  introduce  you." 

We  arise  as  he  comes  nearer  and  the  introduc- 
tion is  given.  I  shake  hands  with  the  stranger. 

He  is  Alphonse  Martellet,  Sergeant  of  the  fifth 
battalion  of  the  Forty-third  regiment  of  the  line, 
veteran  of  the  Crimean  war,  veteran  under 
Marshal  Bazaine  during  the  French  invasion  of 
Mexico,  proud  owner  of  the  Victoria  Cross  and  the 
decoration  of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  And  withal 
as  quiet  and  unassuming  a  man  as  one  could  ever 
meet.  Born  in  San  Lorenzo,  on  the  Gran  Riviere, 
in  the  province  of  Jura,  he  entered  the  army  early 
in  life  and  did  not  leave  it  until  the  end  of  the 
French  occupation  of  this  country. 

Greetings  having  been  exchanged,  we  sit  down 
and  Sergeant  Martellet  tells  us  about  the  Crimean 
war.  He  was  in  all  the  bloody  engagements  of  the 
campaign.  He  saw  the  charge  of  the  Light  Brigade. 
He  was  with  a  battery  on  one  of  the  hills  command- 
ing the  valley  down  which  the  gallant  Six  Hundred 
rode  to  their  death,  and  he  shakes  his  head  as  he 
tells  of  the  rashness,  the  needlessness,  the  folly  of 
it  all — all  the  result  of  a  misunderstanding  between 
two  officers  who  were  too  proud  to  waste  time  in 


56        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

explanation.  It  is  ancient  history,  but  how  inter- 
esting and  thrilling  from  an  eye-witness ! 

Finally  I  turn  the  conversation  to  the  two  notable 
decorations. 

"Sergeant,"  I  say,  with  more  or  less  diffidence, 
"Don  Martin  has  shown  me  the  decorations  belong- 
ing to  you  which  he  has  in  safekeeping.  Will  you 
pardon  me  if  I  ask  you  to  tell  us  why  they  were 
given  you?  It  surely  must  have  been  for  some  act 
of  bravery  much  out  of  the  ordinary.  Will  you 
not  tell  us  the  story  ?" 

The  Sergeant  gave  me  a  lightning  glance.  He 
drew  himself  up,  clicked  his  heels  together,  saluted, 
and  said: 

"They  were  given  me  for  doing  my  duty,  sir !" 

And  no  amount  of  persuasion  could  prevail  upon 
him  to  give  the  slightest  hint  whatever  of  what 
must  have  been  some  extraordinarily  gallant  act. 

As  has  been  said,  Sergeant  Martellet  was  in 
Bazaine's  army  and  his  term  of  service  expired 
before  Napoleon  III  withdrew  his  troops,  after 
having  received  a  gentle  hint  from  the  Washington 
Government  that  their  continuous  presence  on 
American  soil  was  not  regarded  with  favor  by  the 
United  States.  Martellet  had  seen  so  much  of  the 
country  that  he  had  become  enamored  of  it — or 


THE  CRIMEAN  WAR  57 

rather  of  one  of  its  fair  daughters,  for  his  wife,  a 
Mexican,  must  have  been  a  very  handsome  woman 
in  her  younger  days,  as  one  can  see  readily  enough. 
So  he  remained,  and  settled  down  in  the  little  village 
of  Ocampo,  away  out  in  the  desert,  and  lived  there 
many,  many  years.  When  I  met  him  he  was  93 
years  of  age,  but  was  as  active  as  many  a  man  30 
or  40  years  his  junior.  I  begged  him  for  a  photo- 
graph, but  he  had  never  had  one  taken,  and  as  there 
was  no  photographer  in  town  and  my  own  camera 
was  out  of  commission,  I  was  obliged  to  be 
disappointed. 

But  we  drank  a  copita  together  of  the  best  French 
brandy  to  be  obtained,  I  told  him  it  was  one  of 
the  greatest  honors  I  had  ever  enjoyed,  and  with 
a  warm  grasp  of  the  hand,  another  military  salute 
and  a  few  words  of  compliment,  he  went  off  down 
the  street  en  route  to  his  desert  home. 

But  think  of  it!  From  Balaklava  to  Cuatro 
Cienegas !  From  1854  in  the  Crimea  to  1910  on  the 
Coahuila  desert! 


Clebentfj 


THE  CAPTURED  BOY  WHO  FOUND 
HIS  WAY  HOME 

GAIN  I  am  occupying  my  favorite  seat 
under  the  dense  and  grateful  foliage 
of  the  china-berry  tree.  And,  by  the 
way,  never  was  there  a  tree  so  fitted 
for  tropical  climates.  Never  was  there  a  tree  which 
gave  such  complete  shelter  from  the  heat  of  the  tor- 
rid sun.  Not  a  ray  of  burning  sunlight  can  pene- 
trate beneath  it.  The  limbs  hang  well  down  toward 
the  ground  in  graceful  curves,  while  the  mass  of 
verdure  overhead  is  so  dense  that  even  the  blue  sky 
is  shut  off  from  view.  By  all  means  if  one  be  seek- 
ing grace  of  appearance,  beauty  of  outline  and 
every  shade  giving  quality,  he  should  plant  a  china- 
berry  on  lawn  or  in  garden. 

As  was  so  frequently  the  case,  Don  Martin  was 
by  my  side  and  we  were  engaged  in  our  favorite 
occupation  —  exchanging  information  regarding 
each  other's  countries.  Both  were  anxious  learners. 

58 


THE  CAPTURED  BOY  59 

Glancing  down  the  walk  at  an  approaching  figure, 
Don  Martin  said: 

"Here  is  an  interesting  character.  This  man  who 
is  coming  has  been  a  soldier  most  of  his  life,  but 
when  he  was  a  small  boy  of  eight,  in  the  days  when 
the  Comanches  and  Apaches  were  accustomed  to 
raid  this  region  from  the  north,  he  had  an  experi- 
ence of  the  most  remarkable  character.  Here — I 
will  ask  him  to  tell  you  himself  about  it." 

He  was  invited  to  a  seat  and  Don  Martin  told 
him  that  "El  Gringo"  would  like  to  hear  the  story 
of  his  capture  by  the  Indians  and  his  remarkable 
escape  from  them.  This  man  was  different  from 
Sergeant  Martellet.  He  had  never  had  the  educa- 
tion nor  the  advantages  of  the  associations  that  the 
Frenchman  had  enjoyed  and  his  memory  was  not 
nearly  so  keen.  Jose  Martinez  was  his  name.  He 
was  over  eighty,  but  did  not  carry  his  years  well  by 
comparison  with  the  hero  of  the  Crimean  war. 
However,  his  military  life  had  kept  him  from  fall- 
ing into  early  decrepitude  and  he  was  still  as  hale 
and  hearty  as  could  reasonably  be  expected  at  his 
time  of  life. 

This  is  the  story  he  told  us,  sitting  there  in  the 
cool,  refreshing  shade  of  the  china-berry  tree. 

"It  all  happened  many,  many  years  ago.     I  was 


60        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

born  in  this  town.     It  is  my  tierra — my  home. 
When  I  was  eight  years  old,  my  parents,  who  were 
poor,  put  me  on  a  horse  and  sent  me  to  herd  the 
animals  of  the  other  people  out  in  the  valley  every 
day  in  order  that  they  might  have  enough  to  eat. 
Every  morning  at  sunrise  I  went  from  house  to 
house  on  my  horse  and  collected  the  cows  and  horses 
and  burros  and  goats  and  sheep,  and  drove  them 
out  into  the  valley  where  there  was   grass   and 
water.     I  carried  some  tortillas  in  my  pocket  and 
I  stayed  out  there  alone  all  day,  bringing  the  ani- 
mals back  at  night.    When  we  reached  the  edge  of 
the  town  they  all  went  home  of  their  own  accord. 
I  did  not  have  to  bother  with  them,  as  each  knew 
its  owner's  place,  while  I  went  home  to  my  parents. 
"The  favorite  pasture  ground  was  on  the  trail 
toward  the  Sierra  Mojada  pass  and  near  the  Ojo 
de  Agua  (literally  the  eye  of  water — a  large  spring 
two  or  three  miles  out).    This  spring,  as  you  know, 
is  around  the  other  side  of  the  point  of  the  moun- 
tain of  Ante-Ojo   (the  spectacles).     It  is  out  of 
sight  of  Cuatro  Cienegas  and  is  a  very  lonely  place 
indeed.    Frequently  I  passed  days  at  a  time  there 
without  seeing  a  single  person.    Of  course  I  knew 
that  the  Indians  from  the  desert  sometimes  made 
raids  and  stole  cattle  and  horses,  and  killed  people, 


THE  CAPTURED  BOY  61 

but  I  knew  that  if  anything  happened  to  me  it 
would  be  as  God  willed,  so  I  was  not  afraid. 

"One  day  I  shall  never  forget.  I  had  eaten  my 
dinner  and  sat  down  in  the  shade  of  a  tree  near  the 
Ojo  de  Agua  and  had  fallen  asleep.  I  woke  sud- 
denly and  saw  I  was  surrounded  by  a  party  of 
Comanche  Indians,  some  armed  with  bows  and 
arrows  and  some  with  guns,  and  all  looking  very 
fierce  and  angry.  Some  of  them  wanted  to  kill 
me,  but  the  Chief  interfered  and  said  no — that  I 
should  go  with  them  and  be  an  Indian.  So  they 
rounded  up  the  cattle  and  horses — they  did  not 
want  the  goats  and  sheep,  though  they  killed  some 
of  them  and  carried  the  meat  with  them.  They  put 
me  on  my  horse,  and  tied  my  hands  behind  me  with 
some  rawhide  thongs.  They  also  fastened  a  thick 
cloth  over  my  face  so  that  I  could  not  see  which 
way  we  went  or  the  trails  we  followed.  An  Indian 
took  the  reata  of  my  horse  in  his  hand  to  lead  it, 
and  then  we  started,  driving  the  stock  of  the  Cuatro 
Cienegas  people  before  us. 

"We  traveled  till  dark,  and  then  went  into  a 
rocky  canyon  and  made  camp.  It  was  pitch  dark 
and  they  took  the  cloth  from  my  face,  but  did  not 
untie  my  hands  except  when  they  gave  me  some- 
thing to  eat,  and  then  they  tied  them  again  quickly. 


62        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

All  that  I  could  see  was  that  we  were  in  a  very 
wild  and  rocky  canyon.  Before  daylight  in  the 
morning  they  blindfolded  me  again,  put  me  on  my 
horse  with  my  hands  tied,  and  we  traveled  again  all 
day.  It  was  very  tiresome  and  I  tried  to  think  of 
some  way  to  escape.  Every  night  I  tried  to  think 
of  a  plan,  but  they  watched  me  too  closely  and 
there  was  never  any  chance,  as  they  kept  a  guard 
awake  all  the  time,  for  fear  we  might  be  followed. 

"We  traveled  this  way  for  four  days,  going 
many,  many  leagues,  and  I  began  to  think  I  would 
never  see  my  home  and  my  family  again.  I  did 
not  let  the  Indians  see  me  cry,  but  at  night  I  could 
not  help  crying  very  much. 

"On  the  night  of  the  fourth  day  we  camped  in  a 
very  mountainous  place  and  by  this  time  I  was  feel- 
ing so  sad  that  I  did  not  care  whether  the  Indians 
killed  me  or  not.  I  was  determined  to  get  away 
if  I  could.  The  Indians  were  very  tired  and  they 
were  now  so  far  from  Cuatro  Cienegas  that  they 
were  no  longer  afraid  of  pursuit,  so  they  set  no 
guard  that  night  as  they  had  done  before. 

"They  all  laid  down  and  soon  all  were  asleep.  But 
I  could  not  sleep.  I  was  too  sad.  After  awhile  I 
saw  that  all  were  sound  asleep,  so  I  got  up  very 
quietly  from  where  I  was  lying  between  two  of 


THE  CAPTURED  BOY  63 

them.  If  any  one  woke  I  was  going  to  tell  them  I 
wanted  a  drink  of  water.  I  went  very  slowly  and 
cautiously  to  the  spring  of  water  that  made  this  a 
camping  place.  My  hands  were  tied  behind  me 
with  some  rawhide  thongs,  but  I  knew  very  well 
how  to  loosen  them  by  wetting  them.  So  I  sat 
down  with  my  back  to  the  water  and  reached  down 
into  it  until  the  thongs  were  covered  with  it.  Soon 
they  began  to  get  soft  and  then  I  stretched  and 
stretched  them  until  at  last  they  came  off  and  my 
hands  were  free,  but  they  were  very  sore  and  tired. 
"I  put  the  thongs  in  my  pocket  so  that  the  Indians 
could  not  find  them  and  know  that  I  was  free,  and 
then  I  went  away  from  the  camp  farther  up  into 
the  rugged  gulch,  as  I  knew  when  the  Indians  left 
they  would  go  the  other  way  to  the  mouth  of  the 
canyon.  I  stepped  and  jumped  from  rock  to  rock, 
and  did  not  walk  in  the  sand  or  on  the  ground,  so 
as  not  to  leave  any  trail  for  the  Indians  to  follow. 
At  last  I  found  a  little  cave  or  crevice  under  some 
rocks  and  in  such  a  lonely  and  hidden  place  that 
I  did  not  believe  they  could  find  me.  I  crawled 
into  it  and  arranged  some  loose  rocks  in  front,  and 
then  I  laid  down  and  went  to  sleep,  after  praying 
to  the  Virgin  of  Guadalupe  to  protect  me,  as  my 
mother  had  taught  me  to  do.  When  I  woke  it  was 


64       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

broad  daylight  and  I  could  hear  the  Comanches 
hunting  for  me  and  calling  to  each  other.  You 
may  be  sure  I  kept  very  quiet  and  did  not  move. 
But  they  did  not  find  me,  and  at  last  they  started 
away  with  their  stolen  cattle  and  horses. 

"I  stayed  in  the  cave  a  long  time,  for  fear  some 
one  had  remained  behind  to  watch  for  me,  but  after 
waiting  several  hours  I  crawled  out  and  looked 
around.  I  did  not  know  where  I  was.  I  had  never 
been  in  that  country  so  far  from  my  home,  away 
out  on  the  desert,  and  knew  nothing  about  it.  But 
I  took  a  long  drink  at  the  spring  and  ate  a  little 
jerky  (dried  meat)  that  I  had  hidden  in  my  shirt 
and  which  I  had  stolen  from  the  Indians'  supply  the 
night  before  when  my  hands  were  untied  to  let 
me  eat. 

"I  did  not  know  which  way  to  go  in  order  to 
get  back  to  my  home,  though  I  had  tried  my  best  all 
the  time  the  Indians  had  me  to  remember  or  to  see 
in  what  direction  we  were  traveling.  I  sat  down 
and  thought  what  was  the  best  thing  to  do.  Then 
I  remembered  that  while  traveling,  all  the  morning 
the  sun  used  to  shine  directly  on  my  back  and  that  all 
the  afternoon  it  shone  straight  into  my  face.  This 
I  could  tell  even  though  I  was  blindfolded.  So  I 
concluded  that  if  I  changed  this  about,  and  traveled 


Road  up  the  Canyon  from  Cuatro  Cienegas  to  the  Desert  * 


Starting  for  the  Desert 


THE  CAPTURED  BOY  65 

in  the  morning  with  the  sun  in  my  face  and  in  the 
afternoon  kept  it  on  my  back,  I  would  surely  come 
to  Cuatro  Cienegas  after  awhile.  So  I  did  this.  I 
traveled  almost  as  fast  on  foot  as  the  Indians  had 
on  horseback,  because  they  had  to  drive  the  stolen 
cattle  and  horses  before  them  and  could  not  go 
very  fast. 

"I  found  some  tunas  (nopal  cactus  fruit),  which 
I  ate  and  the  jerky  I  stole  from  the  Indians  lasted 
me  a  long  time.  I  knew  the  desert  water  signs  too, 
my  father  having  taught  me,  and  so  I  got  along 
very  well,  though  sometimes  I  was  very  thirsty,  as 
the  water  is  very  far  apart. 

"But  I  was  so  glad  to  get  away  from  the  Indians 
that  I  did  not  mind  that.  At  last,  on  the  after- 
noon of  the  fifth  day  after  I  got  away  from  the 
Indians,  I  came  in  sight  of  the  Cuatro  Cienegas 
valley  through  the  Sierra  Mojada  pass,  and  recog- 
nized it.  In  a  few  hours  more  (it  was  after  sun- 
set) I  walked  into  my  parents'  house.  My  mother 
was  very  much  frightened  and  thought  I  was  a 
ghost,  for  they  all  believed  the  Indians  had  killed 
me.  They  all  thought  it  was  a  very  wonderful 
thing  that  I  had  done,  but  I  could  not  see  it.  It 
was  the  only  thing  to  do  if  I  ever  expected  to  see 
my  family  again.  After  that  they  always  sent  a 


66       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

man  with  a  gun  to  guard  the  herd  while  pastur- 
ing, and  did  not  let  a  boy  go  alone.  But  I  would 
never  have  escaped  from  the  Indians  and  got  safely 
back  to  my  home  if  I  had  not  remembered  about 
the  sun. 

"Yes,  I  was  only  eight  years  old,  but  I  had  always 
remembered  what  my  father  taught  me." 


LEISURELY  MANNER  OF  TRANSACTING 
BUSINESS 

'Y  friend,  Don  Martin,  as  has  been 
stated,  was  the  local  manager  of  a 
branch  bank.  This,  as  is  custom- 
ary in  Mexico,  was  located  in  a 
portion  of  the  same  building  occupied  as  his  family 
residence,  and  was  just  across  the  street  from  one 
corner  of  the  plaza.  It  was  necessary  for  me  to 
transact  considerable  business  of  a  financial  nature 
with  him.  The  bank  was  in  a  large  room,  with  a 
space  at  the  entrance  separated  by  a  half -height 
partition  from  the  part  devoted  to  the  safes,  desks, 
etc.  Don  Martin's  son  Carlos  was  the  cashier. 

The  door  through  the  partition  had  a  sort  of 
combination  catch  that  could  only  be  operated  by 
those  who  had  been  initiated  into  its  use,  but  very 
early  in  my  acquaintance  I  was  given  the  "open 
sesame"  and  passed  in  and  out  as  I  desired  without 
ceremony. 

67 


68        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

The  method  of  transacting  business  here,  as  in 
many  other  portions  of  the  Republic,  was  so  novel 
and  so  at  variance  with  American  customs,  that  it 
is  worth  noting.  Here  is  the  manner  in  which  I 
was  accustomed  to  cash  a  draft  or  to  send  one 
away: 

I  entered  the  place,  opened  the  door  into  the  rear 
and  passed  through  it.  Usually  four  or  five  and 
sometimes  more  gentlemen  would  be  there,  all  sit- 
ting down  and  talking  with  Don  Martin,  and  all 
having  business  to  transact  in  due  time.  Immedi- 
ately upon  my  entrance  they  all  arose  and  we  shook 
hands  and  exchanged  the  usual  daily  greetings. 
Then,  if  there  was  no  extra  chair  for  me,  a  mozo 
would  be  sent  to  an  adjoining  room  for  one,  and 
not  infrequently  one  of  the  standing  gentlemen 
would  hand  me  his  and  they  would  all  insist  upon 
my  sitting  down,  the  others  remaining  standing 
until  the  needed  extra  chair  was  brought.  None 
would  seat  himself  until  such  time  as  chairs  were 
provided  for  all. 

Then  we  would  chat  for  awhile  on  various  sub- 
jects, and  finally  Don  Martin  would  ask  what  he 
could  do  for  me.  I  would  explain,  and  he  would 
instruct  his  son  to  comply  with  my  wishes.  This 
would  be  done  in  full  leisurely  fashion,  and  after 


Peon  Family  at  Home 


Upper  Class  Family  Group  in  Patio  of  Residence 


TRANSACTING  BUSINESS  LEISURELY  69 

the  completion  of  the  transaction  I  would  remain 
awhile  longer.  Finally  I  would  arise,  and  immedi- 
ately all  the  others  also  arose,  and  I  passed  from 
one  to  the  other,  shaking  hands  with  each  in  turn 
and  wishing  him  a  pleasant  day.  Not  one  would 
resume  his  seat  until  after  I  had  left.  After  bid- 
ding them  all  adieu  individually  I  turned  at  the  door 
and  bade  them  farewell  collectively,  after  which  I 
went  on  my  way.  I  had  consumed  perhaps  half  an 
hour,  perhaps  longer,  in  an  operation  that  in  the 
United  States  might  have  required  one  minute,  pos- 
sibly two  or  three. 

But  why  not  ?  That  is  the  custom  of  the  country 
— at  least  in  the  more  remote  districts.  There  is  no 
hurried  rushing  into  a  bank,  slapping  a  piece  of 
paper  on  the  counter,  standing  or  dancing  im- 
patiently while  the  cashier  or  teller  spends  half  a 
minute  or  a  minute  in  verifying  the  signature,  grab- 
bing the  money  and  rushing  out  at  top  speed.  No ! 
Why  not  imitate  the  Mexican  custom  to  some  extent 
at  least?  Take  your  time!  You  will  get  just  as 
much  business  done  in  this  fashion  in  the  long  run 
as  if  you  rushed  and  hurried  and  made  yourself 
and  every  one  else  uncomfortable  by  your  conduct. 
And  incidentally  you  will  get  a  vastly  greater 
amount  of  satisfaction  and  comfort  out  of  life. 


70      ^SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

When  a  man  is  seen  rushing  and  hurrying  along 
the  street  in  many  Mexican  towns,  one  can  hear  the 
subdued  expression  among  the  disgusted  onlookers, 
"There  goes  another  tonto  (crazy)  American!" 
And  who  shall  say  this  expression  is  not  too  often 
deserved?  For  the  very  man  who  does  so  much 
hurrying  and  rushing  will  loaf  by  the  half  hour 
after  he  has  got  over  his  hurry. 


GENEROSITY  A  NATIONAL  TRAIT 

UT  in  the  open  it  is  hot — burning, 
sizzling,  scorching  hot!  There  is  no 
equivocation  about  it.  It  is  hot  as 
— well,  as  a  furnace!  The  ther- 
mometer is  well  above  the  hundred  mark  and  the 
rays  of  the  sun  scorch  and  burn  as  they  can  and  do 
only  in  a  region  for  the  most  part  desert  in  char- 
acter. But  while  the  heat  is  intense — you  can  cook 
eggs  in  the  sand  if  you  will — and  it  is  positive 
cruelty  to  animals  to  force  your  saddle  horse  to 
wade  through  it  at  midday — its  effects  upon  the 
human  sensibilities  do  not  compare  in  any  manner 
as  to  bodily  discomfort,  mental  distress  or  even 
danger,  with  what  is  too  often  the  case  in  sup- 
posedly more  favored  regions.  The  atmosphere  is 
so  dry,  so  nearly  without  appreciable  moisture,  that 
the  deleterious  effects  of  extreme  heat  are  far  less 
than  are  experienced  in  a  temperature  of  twenty 

71 


72       SEEN   IN  A   MEXICAN  PLAZA 

degrees  less  but  in  a  location  nearer  large  bodies 
of  water  or  with  more  vegetation. 

Away  from  the  direct  rays  of  the  sun — as  for 
example  in  the  grateful  shade  of  the  china-berry 
tree  which  was  "El  Gringo's"  favorite  point  of 
observation — it  is  by  comparison  cool  and  com- 
fortable. Not  a  single  ardent  ray  from  the  super- 
ardent  sun  penetrates  the  dense  shadows.  A 
gentle  breeze  stirs  the  vegetation  of  tree,  shrub  and 
plant,  and  brings  the  grateful  fragrance  of  the  plaza 
flowers  to  the  nostrils.  It  serves  also  to  keep  cool 
the  body,  clad  in  as  few  and  as  flimsy  garments  as 
is  consistent  with  the  ordinary  observances  of 
tropical  society — no,  not  a  society  that  is  tropical, 
but  a  society  of  the  tropics !  The  streets  are  deserted 
by  man  and  beast — or  at  least  all  those  to  the  man- 
ner born.  Perchance  some  stranger — some  "tonto" 
— may  be  seen  venturing  into  the  blaze  of  the  mid- 
afternoon  sun,  but  those  who  are  wise  remain  under 
shelter,  either  of  house,  tree  or  vine. 

It  is  almost  mid-afternoon.  The  sun  is  well 
below  the  meridian.  School  "takes  in"  at  three 
o'clock,  and  from  various  directions  come  the  little 
ones  thither  bound.  It  is  near  the  close  of  the 
siesta  hour,  and  the  children  have  the  streets  practi- 
cally to  themselves.  From  every  point  come  the 


GENEROSITY  A  NATIONAL  TRAIT    73 

boys  and  the  girls — there  is  but  one  educational  in- 
stitution in  the  town,  though  a  spacious  one,  sur- 
rounded by  experimental  gardens  where  the  young 
ideas  are  taught  how  to  dig  as  well  as  to  shoot. 
They  keep  closely  in  the  shade  of  house  and  tree, 
and  take  advantage  of  every  shred  of  protection 
from  the  sun's  still  oppressive  rays.  They  are  in 
no  hurry.  Nothing  short  of  a  wild  animal  could 
persuade  them  to  move  faster  than  at  the  proverbial 
snail's  pace — as  will  be  shown  in  another  pleasing 
little  experience  that  once  befell  the  gatherers  in 
the  plaza. 

Here  too,  wise  in  the  devices  of  his  occupation, 
comes  the  ice  cream  peddler.  Well  he  knows  who 
are  his  best  customers,  and  he  establishes  himself 
and  his  cart-supported  freezer  of  delicious  coolness 
in  the  dense  shade  of  a  cluster  of  great  trees  at  a 
point  of  juncture  where  troops  of  children  from 
three  different  thoroughfares  converge.  Well  he 
knows  how  tempting  are  his  evanescent  and  to  tell 
the  truth  somewhat  doubtful  wares  (as  regards 
cleanliness  and  component  parts)  in  the  tropic,  tor- 
rid heat  of  a  tropical  and  torrid  mid-afternoon. 
And  well  he  knows  how  to  charm  the  ultimate 
centavo  from  the  ultimate  pocket  of  the  ultimate 
kidlet,  be  it  male  or  female. 


74       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

It  is  interesting  to  watch  the  affair.  Here  comes 
a  little  ten-year-old  girl — pretty  as  a  picture,  a  great 
deal  prettier  than  some  pictures — with  a  bevy  of 
dear  friends — pretty  ones — very  dear  ones,  as  it 
proves — dear  indeed!  They  have  learned  in  some 
manner,  more  or  less  occult,  with  the  occultism  of 
childhood,  that  their  fortunate  companion  has  be- 
come possessed  in  some  way  (how  they  care  not) 
of  the  large  sum  of  five  or  ten  centavos.  The  little 
capitalist — just  like  a  grown-up  one — has  in  conse- 
quence a  superabundance  of  friends,  though  in  this 
case  it  is  not  fair  to  fancy  that  it  is  only  the  posses- 
sion of  comparative  wealth  that  causes  the  less 
fortunate  ones  to  group  themselves  around  her  and 
accompany  her  schoolward — also  ice-cream-ward ! 

Straight  to  the  ice  cream  peddler  march  the  little 
squad  of  feminine  humanity.  The  youthful  leader 
makes  known  her  desires,  which  strangely  enough 
appear  to  be  in  exact  accord  with  the  desires  of  her 
companions — if  eyes  can  express  desire.  The  dealer 
ladles  out  a  generous  portion — a  heaping  saucerful 
of  frosty,  tempting,  appetizing  sweetness.  The  lit- 
tle ones  form  a  circle  about  the  capitalist,  the  light 
of  expectancy  in  their  eyes,  and  looking  for  all  the 
world  like  a  nest  full  of  birdlings  waiting  with 
open  mouths  the  food  that  they  know  will  be  sup- 


GENEROSITY  A  NATIONAL  TRAIT   75 

plied  by  their  parents.  The  capitalistic  investor  in 
frozen  delightfulness  proceeds  straightway  to 
apportion  the  delicious  morsels — a  spoonful  at  a 
time.  The  first  spoonfuls  are  generous  and  heap- 
ing. Then  by  reason  of  the  rapid  diminution  of  the 
parent  supply  they  become  smaller  and  smaller. 
The  generous-minded  little  distributor  glances  at 
the  remaining  open-mouthed  ones,  gauges  the 
amount  of  ice  cream  that  is  left,  and  manages  to 
make  it  go  around,  just  go  around,  leaving  no  one 
unsupplied  except  her  own  dear  little  self!  Alas 
and  alack,  when  her  own  turn  comes  the  plate  is 
empty — as  empty  as  that  of  the  fabled  Jack  Spratt 
and  his  wife.  The  last  melted  drop  has  disappeared 
into  the  mouths  of  her  associates,  and  she  has  had 
never  a  taste !  !  Just  the  proverbial  smell  is  all  that 
falls  to  her  lot! 

Her  smile  is  brave,  though  perhaps  a  bit  rueful! 
There  is  really  nothing  to  be  said.  The  rest  of 
the  party,  like  herself,  are  "stone  broke/'  So  the 
little  bankrupt  capitalist  returns  the  saucer  and 
spoon  to  the  peddler  and  trudges  sturdily  off  toward 
the  school,  not  indicating  by  any  visible  act  that  she 
felt  disappointment  or  regret  at  having  been  so 
ultra-generous.  Her  enjoyment  at  witnessing  the 
enjoyment  of  her  little  playmates  was  apparently  as 


76        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

great  as  it  would  have  been  had  she  devoured  the 
entire  dish  of  ice  cream  herself  without  outside 
assistance. 

So  too  with  the  boys  as  well  as  the  girls.  Many 
a  time,  sitting  at  one  side  and  out  of  observation,  I 
have  seen  the  little  kiddies  gather  about  one  of  their 
number  who  was  the  possessor  of  some  candy,  cake, 
fruit,  or  other  delectable  morsel.  Many  a  time 
have  I  seen  the  possessor  break  off  pieces  and  pass 
them  around  until  the  whole  had  been  given  away 
and  he  or  she  had  not  a  morsel  for  themselves. 

It  is  in  truth  a  pretty  sight — a  testimonial  of  the 
most  convincing  character  as  to  the  innate  unself- 
ishness of  the  people.  And  many  a  time  I  have 
said  to  myself:  "I  wonder  how  long  I  would  have 
to  wait  before  I  saw  children  of  any  other  nation- 
ality give  such  spontaneous  exhibitions  of  generosity 
and  unselfishness."  I  wonder!  Or  rather,  I  do  not! 

And  this  beautiful  trait  is  not  confined  to  the  chil- 
dren, by  any  means.  Grown-ups  are  just  as  gen- 
erous, not  only  with  luxuries  but  with  necessaries 
as  well. 

They  will  divide  their  last  morsel  of  food  with 
some  one  who  is  hungry.  While  food  was  scarce  in 
Mexico  City  I  saw  a  small  roll  handed  to  a  peon 
who  was  eyeing  a  basket  full  of  bread  with  the  ex- 


GENEROSITY  A  NATIONAL  TRAIT   77 

pression  of  a  starving  animal.  He  took  it  hastily, 
started  to  put  it  to  his  mouth,  then  turned  to  another 
peon  equally  hungry  looking  and  said:  "Here — 
you  are  hungrier  than  I,"  at  the  same  time  giving 
him  three-fourths  of  the  morsel,  and  retaining  only 
a  mouthful  for  himself!  A  family  may  be  seated 
at  a  meal  which  is  scanty  enough  for  them,  but  if 
a  hungry  person  chances  by,  even  though  he  be  a 
total  stranger,  he  will  be  invited  in  the  heartiest 
manner  to  share  in  the  food. 

If  there  is  any  one  thing  that  Mexicans  are  not, 
it  is  in  being  greedy  where  food  or  delicacies  are 
concerned. 


Jfourteentf) 

AN  OPEN-AIR  MOVIE  EXHIBITION 

F  the  writer  who  pre-empted  the  title 
"Far  From  the  Madding  Crowd" 
could  have  known  Cuatro  Cienegas 
as  "El  Gringo"  came  to  know  it, 
both  from  his  own  especial  settee  in  the  shade  of 
the  china-berry  tree  in  the  plaza,  as  well  as  from 
his  wanderings  about  the  town  and  its  outskirts,  he 
would  have  conceded  beyond  the  peradventure  of 
a  doubt  that  no  spot  in  his  own  country,  no  matter 
how  secluded  or  how  remote,  could  for  one  moment 
excel  it  or  even  compare  with  it  in  loneliness  or  in 
the  absence  of  anything  that  savored  of  the  presence 
of  a  crowd,  whether  madding  or  not. 

The  pretty  little  hamlet  lay  off  the  beaten  path 
of  traveler  or  tourist.  Few  ever  came  thither  except 
on  business  bent,  and  when  that  was  transacted, 
departure  was  quickly  taken.  On  occasion  the 
solitary  daily  train  arriving  about  midday  discharged 
an  infrequent  foreigner.  "El  Gringo's"  coign  of 
vantage  was  so  situated  that  none  could  enter  the 

78 


AN  OPEN-AIR  MOVIE  EXHIBITION  79 

town  without  passing  under  his  more  or  less  eagle 
eye,  and  if  a  single  one  managed  in  a  year  and  a 
half  to  escape  the  welcoming  hand  and  voice  of  his 
fellow-countryman  or  fellow-foreigner,  as  the  case 
might  be,  as  quickly  as  he  entered  the  hotel,  no 
record  was  kept  of  such  untoward  event.  There 
were  none !  At  the  first  glimpse  of  a  foreign  face, 
"El  Gringo"  hastened  across  to  the  hostelry  and 
welcomed  and  was  welcomed  by  the  visitor.  Many 
a  pleasing  acquaintance  was  made  in  this  manner, 
and  the  assistance  and  information  afforded  the 
newcomer  amply  compensated  the  pleasure  of  meet- 
ing a  compatriot. 

The  annual  "fiesta"  was  the  only  event  that  drew 
any  number  of  strangers  Cienegas-ward,  and  its 
brief  week  ended,  the  place  lapsed  again  into  its 
usual  somnolence. 

Of  a  truth,  it  was  a  good  place  for  one  to  rest 
and  think — or  perhaps  merely  to  think  that  he  was 
thinking!  A  good  place  to  let  one's  mind  lie  fal- 
low; to  let  the  old  crop  of  thoughts  and  fancies  die 
out  completely,  or  be  turned  under,  buried  and  put 
out  of  sight,  to  fertilize  and  give  place  to  a  fresher, 
newer  growth  that  eventuated  mayhap  in  a  fresher, 
newer,  better  harvest.  As  the  Hebrews  of  old  were 
commanded,  and  with  good  reason,  to  permit  their 


80         SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

lands  to  remain  uncultivated  one  year  in  seven,  to 
lie  fallow  and  rest,  why  should  not  human  kind 
give  themselves  surcease  from  toil,  if  not  as  often 
as  did  the  ancients  with  their  lands,  at  least  at 
proper  intervals?  Surely,  if  mere  earth  profits  by 
such  a  rest,  the  human  mind  and  body  should  reap 
equal  benefit  therefrom? 

But  while  Cienegas  was  quiet  and  sleepy,  innocent 
of  excitement  as  a  rule,  still  there  were  times  when 
a  ripple  of  novelty  and  interest  swept  over  the  com- 
munity (as  related  elsewhere  for  example),  and 
such  an  occasion  was  afforded  by  the  advent  of  the 
first  moving  picture  that  had  ever  come  to  the  com- 
munity— absolutely  the  first !  It  is  difficult  in  these 
days  of  such  displays,  when  every  hamlet  in  the 
land  has  its  "movie  theater,"  to  imagine  such  an 
unusual  event,  and  still  more  difficult  to  realize  the 
intense  interest  and  surprise  manifested  by  those 
who  had  never  seen  anything  of  the  kind  in  all 
their  lives,  long  or  short  as  the  case  might  be. 
Some,  it  is  true,  had  witnessed  such  exhibitions  in 
their  infrequent  visits  to  Monterrey,  the  metropolis 
of  this  section,  or  who  had  ventured  accross  the 
border  and  as  far  as  San  Antonio,  the  pleasure- 
affording  Mecca  of  holiday  makers  from  Mexico, 
and  had  found  it  difficult  to  convince  their  skeptical 


AN  OPEN-AIR  MOVIE  EXHIBITION  81 

friends  that  they  were  indeed  telling  the  truth  about 
the  marvels  of  the  picture  world,  even  if  they  did 
not  repeat  the  experience  of  the  staid  and  trust- 
worthy attorney  whose  home  was  in  a  remote  town 
in  the  State  of  Durango,  and  who  completely  de- 
stroyed his  reputation  for  veracity  by  a  recital  of 
but  a  tithe  of  the  wonders  that  he  had  witnessed  in 
a  memorable  visit  to  Coney  Island!  Some  had 
read  about  the  latter-day  wonders  of  the  photog- 
rapher's art  of  the  twentieth  century,  but  to  many 
they  were  as  strange  and  unknown  as  the  nebular 
hypothesis  or  the  depths  of  the  milky  way. 

Came  then  a  "cienematografia"  to  far-away 
Cuatro  Cienegas,  meagerly  equipped,  it  is  true,  with 
films  ancient  even  then,  and  so  damaged  by  poor 
manufacture,  much  travel  and  rough  handling,  as  to 
be  almost  undecipherable.  Came  the  impresario  and 
sought  eagerly  for  some  building  or  hall  suitable  for 
the  presentation  of  the  novelty  and  for  the  accom- 
modation of  the  crowd  that  he  felt  sure  would 
throng  to  inspect  the  views.  But  no  such  place 
was  to  be  had.  Diligent  search  throughout  the 
entire  town  failed  to  disclose  a  room  that  would 
in  any  way  answer  the  desired  purpose. 

The  weather  being  pleasant  (as  was  the  rule 
where  rain  nor  snow  nor  hail  falls  for  months  on 


82       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

months  in  succession),  the  perplexed  manager 
finally  decided  to  make  use  of  the  only  possible 
method  for  presenting  his  attraction,  and  that  was 
in  the  corral  at  the  rear  of  the  hotel — a  spacious 
area,  surrounded  by  high  adobe  walls  on  three 
sides  and  the  hotel  on  the  other,  from  which  doors 
opened  directly.  At  one  side  were  the  sheds  for 
the  accommodation  of  vehicles  and  animals  that 
preferred  shelter  to  the  open  air,  while  on  the  other 
side  were  the  flush  walls  of  the  hostelry.  One 
corner  was  selected  as  the  "theater,"  or  auditorium, 
and  ropes  were  stretched  from  stakes  driven  to  sup- 
port them  in  order  to  rail  off  the  audience  from 
the  four-footed  occupants  of  the  corral.  A  canvas 
sheet  was  spread  as  a  roof,  which  formed  the  only 
shelter  for  the  onlookers.  An  inner  line  of  ropes 
separated  the  lowest  priced  portion  of  the  audience 
from  the  higher  priced  one,  this  being  the  only 
distinction.  All  enjoyed  equal  advantages  for  view- 
ing the  pictures.  There  were  no  seats,  no  chairs, 
nothing  for  the  accommodation  of  the  audience  in 
this  respect.  All  were  as  a  matter  of  fact  on  an 
equal  footing — master  and  peon.  Those  who  de- 
sired brought  chairs  or  boxes  or  what  not  upon 
which  to  sit,  but  for  the  most  part  the  audience 
stood  upon  an  exact  equality. 


AN  OPEN-AIR  MOVIE  EXHIBITION  83 

It  was  an  odd  sight.  A  few  dim  lanterns  and 
candles  afforded  all  the  illumination  needed.  The 
gentle  domestic  animals,  made  curious  by  the  un- 
wonted invasion  of  their  quarters,  gathered  on  the 
outskirts  of  the  audience  and  actually  appeared  to 
take  an  active  interest  in  the  unwonted  display. 
They  preserved  their  equanimity  to  fully  as  great 
a  degree  as  the  humans  who  had  never  before  wit- 
nessed such  a  spectacle,  and  were  grave  and  decor- 
ous auditors  as  became  the  occasion.  Ejaculations 
of  surprise  and  delight  were  heard  from  every  side 
and  the  audience  gave  every  evidence  of  deep 
enjoyment 

Altogether  it  was  as  remarkable  a  spectacle  of 
its  kind  as  "El  Gringo' '  had  ever  witnessed,  and 
quite  as  much  interest  was  aroused  by  the  surround- 
ings and  the  demeanor  of  a  large  portion  of  the 
audience  as  by  the  pictures  themselves. 

Since  then  Cienegas  has  been  provided  with  a 
theater  equal  to  the  requirements  of  a  larger  town, 
but  the  "movie"  display  in  the  corral  of  the  hotel, 
with  its  audience  of  animals  in  the  background,  has 
always  been  one  of  the  favorite  recollections  of  "El 
Gringo"  in  this  country  of  unusual  sights  and 
sounds  and  unusual  experiences. 


Jf  tfteentl) 


A  LATE  AFTERNOON  PANIC  IN 
THE  PLAZA 

T  is  late  in  the  afternoon. 

The  sun  is  nearing  the  serrated 
ridge  that  cuts  off  the  Cuatro 
Cienegas  valley  from  the  vast  desert- 
stretches  to  the  west.  The  air  is  becoming  cooler 
every  moment,  as  the  evening  shadows  commence 
to  fall.  These  shadows  come  early  too  —  long 
before  the  time  appointed  by  the  calendar  for  this 
latitude  has  been  reached  for  the  disappearance  be- 
low the  horizon  of  the  great  orb  of  day.  The 
mountains  that  guard  the  town  on  the  west  are  so 
lofty  that  the  sun  is  hidden  from  sight  long  before 
the  usual  time  in  less  well  protected  localities.  The 
shadows  are  creeping  slowly  down  the  foothills, 
bringing  out  the  light  and  shade  of  canyon  and 
ridge,  of  shrub  and  grass,  of  the  vari-colored  rocks 
in  a  manner  that  one  never  tires  of  watching  and 
studying. 

84 


A  LATE  AFTERNOON  PANIC         85 

The  siesta  hour  has  long  since  joined  the  ma- 
jority. "El  Gringo"  is  in  his  favorite  loafing  spot 
on  the  settee  in  the  shade  of  the  china-berry  tree, 
watching  and  studying  the  constantly  shifting 
scenes  about  him.  The  streets  are  alive  with  the 
populace.  All  the  seats  in  the  plaza  are  occupied 
and  the  hum  of  life  is  heard  in  every  direction. 
Children  throng  the  little  park,  play  about  the 
benches,  listen  to  the  blind  violin  player,  buy  sweet- 
meats from  the  peddlers — bits  of  candied  cactus  and 
squash  and  such  like  national  delicacies — and  enjoy 
themselves  in  the  same  manner  as  do  their  kin  all 
over  the  world.  Everything  is  peaceful,  quiet  and 
calm.  An  air  of  inexpressible  security  and  enjoy- 
ment is  over  all. 

Away  up  the  street  down  which  the  guayule 
teams  are  wont  to  come  as  they  near  the  end  of 
their  long  and  weary  journey  of  a  hundred  miles 
from  the  heart  of  the  desert,  appears  a  cloud  of  dust. 
It  rolls  skyward  as  only  dust  can  roll  which  has 
been  pulverized  to  an  almost  impalpable  powder  by 
continued  drought  and  thrown  to  the  winds  by  the 
slightest  disturbance  of  wheel,  hoof  or  human  foot. 
The  cloud  is  so  dense  and  hangs  so  closely  to  the 
ground,  as  well  as  towering  aloft  into  the  air,  that 
for  a  long  time  and  until  it  is  well  within  the  town 


86       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

limits,  there  is  nothing  to  indicate  with  certainty 
the  cause  thereof. 

Finally  the  lowing  and  bellowing  of  cattle  dis- 
closes the  fact  that  a  band  of  horned  stock  is  mak- 
ing its  way  slowly  along  the  highway,  coming,  as 
was  subsequently  developed,  from  the  remote  fast- 
nesses of  the  desert  mountains,  where  they  had  been 
reared  among  the  wildest  surroundings,  their  only 
knowledge  of  civilization  being  the  infrequent  sight 
of  a  vaquero  from  whom  they  had  fled  in  terror. 
Such  a  thing  as  a  town,  with  its  aggregation  of 
houses  and  humans,  was  as  foreign  to  them  as  the 
life  that  possibly  exists  upon  the  moon  is  to  the 
earth  dweller. 

They  are  leg  weary  and  thirsty  from  their  long 
journey.  So  too  are  the  vaqueros  and  their  horses. 
They  have  pushed  the  animals  in  order  to  reach 
the  cattle  corrals  at  the  railroad  station  before  dark, 
until,  frightened  by  the  unusual  sights  and  sounds 
of  the  town,  the  beasts  are  on  the  verge  of  a 
stampede.  The  horsemen  urge  the  unwilling 
animals  down  the  street,  nursing  them  carefully  at 
each  crossing  in  order  to  hold  them  together  and 
prevent  disaster.  Thus  they  come  along  the  thor- 
oughfare until  the  corner  of  the  plaza  is  reached. 
The  desert-bred  animals  sniff  the  air  and  the  dust. 


Pack  Train  Carrying  Firewood  to  Town 


Guayule  Train  Coming  into  Town  from  the  Desert 


A  LATE  AFTERNOON  PANIC         87 

The  odor  is  not  to  their  liking,  it  is  so  different 
from  the  pure,  resinous  air  of  the  desert.  They 
bawl  and  bellow,  they  toss  their  heads  and  roll  their 
bloodshot  eyes  from  side  to  side,  lashing  their 
bodies  with  their  tails,  prodding  each  other  with 
their  horns,  and  evincing  every  indication  of  readi- 
ness to  break  into  a  panic  at  the  slightest  provo- 
cation. The  situation  is  tense  and  fraught  with 
danger. 

There  is  a  musically  inclined  individual  living  in 
a  house  that  fronts  on  the  plaza  who  is  wont  to 
while  away  the  evening  hours  and  wear  away  his 
neighbors'  nerves  at  the  same  time  by  eliciting 
strange  noises  from  the  depths  of  a  brass  instru- 
ment of  some  sort,  the  like  of  which  were  never 
heard  on  land  or  sea,  and  which  were  well  calculated 
to  bring  panic  and  fear  to  animals  far  more  accus- 
tomed to  the  unusual  than  a  band  of  desert  raised 
bovines. 

Ignorant  of  the  impending  advent  of  the  weary, 
nervous,  half -crazed  cattle,  this  individual  estab- 
lishes himself  on  the  sidewalk  in  front  of  his  door- 
way, puts  the  mouthpiece  of  the  instrument  of 
torture  to  his  face,  draws  a  deep  breath,  and  then — 
With  a  long  drawn  shriek  and  moan  which 
would  have  put  the  most  powerful  foghorn  to  blush, 


88       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

if  foghorns  can  blush,  he  rent  the  evening  air,  tore 
it  to  tatters.  The  cattle  halted  suddenly  and 
simultaneously.  What  hellish  trap  was  this  into 
which  they  were  being  led!  They  had  seen  and 
heard  strange  and  weird  things  since  striking  the 
outposts  of  civilization,  but  nothing  like  this.  They 
stood  breathless  and  motionless  for  a  second  or 
two,  then  with  a  chorus  of  wildest  bellowings  of 
fright  they  stampeded.  Down  the  street  they  came, 
hell  bent  for  the  plaza.  The  vaqueros  rode  on  the 
sidewalks  and  among  them,  seeking  in  vain  to  hold 
the  crazed  animals  together.  At  each  corner  some 
broke  away  and  dashed  down  the  side  streets,  but 
the  main  body  rushed  plaza-ward. 

Shouts  of  warning  were  uttered,  yells  and  curses 
were  hurled  at  the  unconscious  cause,  who  did  not 
realize  what  he  had  done  until  the  leaders,  with 
lowered  heads  and  elevated  tails,  were  close  upon 
him.  Then  into  the  house  he  went  at  one  jump, 
slamming  the  door  just  in  time  to  escape  serious  and 
more  or  less  deserved  damage. 

Through  the  plaza  the  animals  tore,  the  people 
fleeing  in  panic,  climbing  the  trees,  hiding  in 
ditches,  running  to  shelter  in  every  direction. 
Dignity  was  scattered  to  the  winds.  Safety  first 
was  the  predominant  idea  with  all.  "El  Gringo" 


A  LATE  AFTERNOON  PANIC         89 

saw  and  heard  them  coming.  He  had  seen  and 
heard  such  things  before  on  a  California  cattle 
ranch  and  knew  something  about  the  danger  there- 
from. Diagonally  across  the  street  from  his  seat, 
in  an  opposite  direction  from  the  church,  was  the 
"hoozegow,"  or  jail,  with  doors  and  windows  of 
iron  bars — no  more.  He  had  never  had  any  very 
friendly  feeling  for  such  institutions,  except  when 
confining  law  breakers  of  unusual  hideousness  of 
conduct,  but  in  the  emergency — the  condition  and 
not  the  theory — that  now  confronted  him  and  his 
companions,  the  wide  open  door  took  on  a  most 
inviting  aspect.  The  heavy  iron  bars  looked  good 
enough  to  him — real  good  in  fact — just  as  they 
apparently  did  to  half  a  dozen  others.  There  was 
a  simultaneous  thought  in  the  mind  of  each,  there 
was  a  simultaneous  dash  for  the  open  doorway,  and 
there  was  a  simultaneous  arrival  at  the  desired 
point.  All  reached  it  at  the  same  instant  and  all 
sought  to  pass  through  it  with  as  little  unnecessary 
delay  as  possible.  Forgotten  were  the  niceties  and 
politenesses  of  ordinary  every-day  intercourse.  For- 
gotten was  the  delightful  habit  of  stepping  to  one 
side  on  the  narrow  walk  or  in  the  doorway,  salut- 
ing another  and  bidding  him  to  pass  first.  Quite 
excusable  was  this  forgetfulness.  With  a  bunch  of 


90       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

mad  cattle  close  at  one's  heels,  bawling  and  bel- 
lowing, just  one  instinct  remained — that  of  self- 
preservation.  So  we  all  tried  to  get  through  the 
door  together,  became  wedged  therein,  struggled 
frantically,  but  finally  managed  to  squeeze  through, 
then  slammed  the  grating  shut  and  from  this  secure 
point  of  vantage  watched  the  proceedings  in  the 
street. 

Through  the  plaza  the  animals  tore,  the  people 
fleeing  in  panic,  climbing  trees,  hiding  in  ditches, 
running  to  shelter  in  every  direction.  Aided  by 
some  mounted  men,  the  vaqueros  finally  managed 
to  round  up  most  of  the  animals,  and  it  was  decided 
to  herd  them  into  a  corral  in  the  middle  of  the  town 
and  not  to  attempt  to  drive  them  to  the  railroad 
station  until  morning,  when  they  would  have  be- 
come quiet  and  more  manageable.  After  a  long 
time  spent  in  coaxing,  persuading  and  gently  urg- 
ing the  cattle,  they  were  at  length  all  driven  through 
the  gateway  to  the  corral,  with  a  single  exception. 
This  was  a  big  black  bull  of  fearsome  aspect,  who 
sullenly  maintained  his  stand  in  the  center  of  the 
street  and  contrary  to  general  cattle  usage  refused 
to  follow  his  companions.  The  vaqueros  sur- 
rounded him,  hit  him  with  their  reatas  and  quirts, 


A  LATE  AFTERNOON  PANIC         91 

swore  at  him  and  sought  in  vain  in  some  manner 
to  persuade  him  to  move. 

Finally  one  rash  individual  inflicted  the  crown- 
ing indignity  upon  his  bullship.  He  seized  the 
animal's  tail  near  the  root,  and  gave  it  an  energetic 
and  spiteful  twist.  That  was  all  he  did,  but  it  was 
amply  sufficient.  He  took  no  part  in  the  subsequent 
performances.  It  was  quite  late  in  the  evening 
before  he  was  able  to  sit  up  and  ask  how  the  town 
had  fared  during  the  earthquake  and  what  a  pity 
it  was  that  the  church  had  been  destroyed  and  frag- 
ments of  the  tower  had  fallen  upon  him — such 
incidents  being  almost  unknown  here! 

With  a  roar  and  a  bellow,  the  bull,  having  first 
kicked  his  tormentor  into  unconsciousness,  went 
tearing  down  the  street.  Every  living  object  that 
met  his  view  was  a  target  for  prompt  attack.  An 
inoffensive  burro  standing  meekly  by  the  roadside 
was  struck  squarely  amidship  and  sent  rolling  into 
the  opposite  gutter.  A  horse  or  two  met  a  like 
fate.  Two  or  three  men  were  bowled  over,  but  fortu- 
nately the  maddened  animal  was  too  bewildered,  too 
anxious  to  get  away  from  the  town  and  into  the 
familiar  wilderness  to  permit  of  a  moment's  un- 
necessary stop.  So  they  escaped  uninjured  except 
for  painful  bruises.  Fortunately  for  all,  the  angry 


92        SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

bull  did  not  halt  to  gore  any  of  the  objects  of  his 
wrath.  He  had  no  spite  against  them  that  would 
lead  him  to  desire  their  lives.  He  was  in  a  desperate 
hurry,  they  were  merely  in  his  way,  and  they  must 
get  out  of  his  path — that  was  all. 

Never  was  such  a  sight  seen  outside  of  the  bull- 
ring. Women  ran  screaming  to  snatch  their  panic 
stricken  children  out  of  harm's  way.  Men  sought 
places  of  safety  no  matter  where  or  how.  Half  of 
the  double  door  of  a  tailor  shop  stood  open,  too  nar- 
row to  admit  of  the  animal's  entrance,  but  he 
charged  at  it,  was  caught  for  a  minute  by  one  of 
his  horns  becoming  entangled,  stayed  long  enough 
to  receive  full  in  the  face  a  brasero  full  of  burning 
charcoal  used  for  heating  the  tailor's  "goose,"  with- 
drew with  a  bellow  of  added  pain  and  rage,  and 
then  dashed  on.  By  this  time  some  of  the  vaqueros 
had  recovered  from  their  momentary  panic  and 
with  reatas  widely  swinging  came  galloping  down 
the  street.  Two  were  in  the  lead,  and  with  a  quick 
gesture  from  one  to  the  other  they  ranged  up  one 
on  each  side,  cast  their  reatas  with  unerring  ac- 
curacy, then  reined  their  horses  back  on  their 
haunches,  and  braced  themselves  for  the  shock.  It 
came.  The  bull  was  halted  so  suddenly  that  he 
turned  a  complete  somersault,  landing  squarely  on 


A  LATE  AFTERNOON  PANIC         93 

his  head  and  then  falling  heavily  on  his  back. 
While  the  vaqueros  tautened  their  ropes  and  held 
him  harmless  on  the  ground,  another  jumped 
quickly  from  his  horse,  drew  a  keen  edged  knife, 
and  at  one  slash  almost  severed  the  animal's  head 
from  his  body,  the  while  one  last  resounding  bellow 
of  anger  and  pain  went  hurtling  down  the  street. 

Oh  it  was  some  idyll — this  stampede  of  the  desert 
cattle — and  for  a  long  time  it  was  used  as  a  land- 
mark from  which  to  date  other  events  of  less  im- 
portance, or  at  all  events  with  less  thrill. 


A  CHILD'S  FAITH  IN  DON  PORFIRIO 

T  is  early  one  morning — about  nine 
o'clock.  I  have  completed  my  "con- 
stitutional" of  fifteen  times  around 
the  plaza.  Five  complete  circuits  of 
the  little  park  equal  one  mile  in  a  direct  line,  as  they 
do  in  the  majority  of  similar  cases  in  the  Republic. 
Fifteen  times  is  one  league,  more  or  less,  or  three 
miles.  Sometimes  when  it  is  quite  cool  I  make  an 
even  twenty  laps,  four  miles,  and  it  is  done  in  a 
trifle  less  than  one  hour.  Sometimes  I  have  com- 
pany, and  sometimes  not,  but  as  it  is  the  only  dust- 
less  walk  in  the  town,  every  morning  and  evening 
sees  me  "lapping"  around  the  plaza.  The  evenings 
are  the  hardest  part  of  the  day  in  which  to  "kill 
time."  Every  one  is  off  the  streets  usually  by  eight; 
a  few  dim  acetylene  lights  here  and  there  only  serve 
to  accentuate  the  gloom  of  the  town.  Not  being 
permitted  to  read,  either  by  daylight  or  lamplight, 
nothing  remains  but  the  plaza.  The  church  clock 

94 


A  Mexican  Bride 


A  CHILD'S  FAITH  95 

strikes  the  hours  and  the  quarters,  the  first  in  a 
deep  tone,  the  others  in  one  of  lighter  sound.  Thus, 
at  9.15  the  clock  strikes  once  in  a  silvery  tone,  fol- 
lowed by  nine  blows  in  the  deeper  tone  of  the  hour. 
So  when  one  wakes  at  night  he  can  listen  for  the 
quarter  to  strike  and  can  tell  the  time  exactly.  The 
clock  strikes  twice  for  the  half-hour  and  three  times 
for  the  three-quarters.  Ten-thirty  is  the  hour  I 
have  set  for  retiring,  as  I  had  found  it  impossible  to 
sleep  before  that  time,  and  the  weary,  dreary  hours 
from  dark  until  the  time  selected  are  about  as  weary 
and  dreary  as  can  be  imagined.  I  walk  from  one 
end  of  the  block  upon  which  I  live  to  the  other  over 
and  over,  and  then  cross  to  the  plaza  and  walk 
around  and  around  and  around  again.  I  listen  to 
the  striking  of  the  clock  as  the  quarters  reel  off,  oh 
so  slowly,  and  long  for  the  chosen  moment  to  come 
for  going  to  bed.  Finally  it  comes,  the  whole  town 
is  silent  as  a  tomb,  and  I  go  to  my  room  and  to 
sleep. 

Long  before  nine  next  morning  I  am  up,  bathed, 
breakfasted,  walked,  and  in  my  reserved  seat  in  the 
shelter  of  the  china-berry,  for  by  that  time  the  sun 
is  well  up,  its  rays  are  scorching  and  there  is  no 
comfort  except  in  the  shade. 

On  this  particular  morning  I  am  there  with  my 


96       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

customary  companion,  and  as  usual  at  intervals  of 
twenty  to  thirty  minutes  I  stroll  to  the  middle  of 
the  highway  and  look  off  toward  the  mountain  pass 
in  the  hope  that  the  expected  cloud  of  dust  may 
materialize  into  the  hoped-for  wagon  train  of 
guayule  shrub.  The  price  of  rubber  has  gone  up, 
so  has  the  price  of  the  plant  from  which  it  is  pro- 
duced, and  my  principals  have  urged  me  to  hurry 
forward  every  possible  ton,  in  order  that  it  may 
be  converted  into  coin.  What  this  means  may  be 
judged  from  the  fact  that  in  no  very  great  time 
the  market  value  of  the  shrub  has  increased  from 
$30  to  $200  and  more  per  ton. 

But  there  is  no  dust  in  the  distance,  and  so  I 
resume  my  seat.  Soon  comes  little  seven-year-old 
Jose  Maria,  with  trouble,  dire  trouble,  writ  plain 
and  large  on  his  childish  countenance.  There  is 
even  a  suspicion  of  tears  and  it  is  with  difficulty  he 
suppresses  his  sobs  as  he  tells  his  tale  of  woe. 

Addressing  us  both  after  politely  exchanging  the 
usual  salutations,  as  Mexican  children  always  do, 
he  asks: 

"Have  you  seen  my  kid  this  morning?" 

A  little  inquiry  develops  the  fact  that  an  aunt  had 
given  him  a  kid  as  a  playmate  and  that  the  little 
chap  had  straightway  fallen  in  love  with  it.  He  had 


A  CHILD'S  FAITH  97 

petted  it,  fed  it  and  even  kept  it  in  the  house  by  his 
side  at  night.  But  his  mother  had  finally  been 
obliged  to  banish  it  to  the  corral.  Here  little  Jose 
Maria  had  walled  off  a  sheltered  nook  with  adobe 
bricks,  had  arranged  some  straw  for  its  bed,  and  at 
night,  after  feeding  his  pet,  had  left  it  in  supposed 
safety  to  sleep  until  morning.  This  had  been  going 
on  for  some  time,  but  this  morning  when  Jose 
Maria  went  to  give  the  pet  kid  its  breakfast,  the 
animal  was  missing  and  could  not  be  found  any- 
where, though  he  had  searched  for  hours.  Now  he 
was  going  about  town  and  asking  every  one  whom 
he  knew  if  they  had  seen  his  kid.  He  was  heart 
broken  over  the  mysterious  disappearance. 

We  suggested  that  he  should  go  to  the  residence 
of  his  aunt  who  had  given  him  the  pet,  as  it  was 
reasonable  to  suppose  that  it  might  have  wandered 
back  to  its  birthplace.  The  bereaved  little  chap 
hastened  thither,  but  in  about  half  an  hour  returned 
again,  the  picture  of  grief.  No  kid  had  been  seen. 
He  had  examined  the  entire  flock  in  the  corral  and 
his  particular  pet  was  not  among  the  number. 

"Well,  then,"  said  Don  Martin,  "it  must  be  that 
your  kid  has  been  stolen." 

"Stolen!  How  stolen?  Who  would  steal  my 
kid?" 


98       SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

"Oh,  there  are  thieves  here  who  might  steal  it 
to  eat." 

"What?"  with  consternation,  surprise  and  dis- 
belief written  all  over  his  face.  "Thieves  in  this 
town?  Thieves  here?  Is  Don  Porfirio  then  dead, 
that  there  should  be  thieves  in  Cuatro  Cienegas  ?" 

And  there  was  a  whole  volume  in  this  childish 
expression  of  disillusionment  and  loss  of  confidence. 


3bj>ll  ftetoenteenft 

THE  INTERESTING  PROCESS  OF 
MANUFACTURING  CANDLES 

ETWEEN  the  house  of  "El  Gringo" 
— that  ancient  structure  in  which 
he  never  went  to  sleep  without 
picturing  in  his  mind  the  heroic 
fight  put  up  in  the  very  room 


in  which  he  slept,  between  four  brave  patriots 
intrenched  therein  and  upward  of  200  enemies, 
howling  on  the  outside  for  their  blood — and 
his  private  settee  in  the  shade  of  the  china-berry 
tree,  were  several  places  of  business  of  one  kind 
and  another.  Among  these  was  one  where  the 
stranger  often  halted  to  watch  the  industry  therein 
carried  on  and  to  exchange  a  few  words  of  greet- 
ing with  the  genial,  gray-haired  man  who  consti- 
tuted in  his  own  person  the  proprietor,  manager, 
foreman  and  entire  working  force  of  a  candle 
manufactory.  In  his  younger  days  in  a  pioneer 
community  it  had  been  one  of  "El  Gringo's" 


100      SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

"chores"  to  assist  in  the  preparation  of  the  battery 
of  tin  molds,  the  tying  of  the  wicks  to  the  wooden 
cross  pieces,  and  the  pouring  of  the  melted  tallow, 
by  which  slow  and  laborious  process  candles  were 
evolved — the  only  means  of  illumination  known  at 
that  time,  which  was  before  the  "invention"  of 
petroleum  as  an  illuminant. 

But  this  Cuatro  Cienegas  candle  manufactory 
was  of  a  different  type.  A  great  empty  room,  per- 
haps 20  or  24  feet  square,  opened  off  the  street  with 
a  wide  double  door.  With  the  exceptions  to  be 
described,  it  was  entirely  without  furniture  or  ap- 
pliances of  any  kind.  Into  a  massive  beam  over- 
head at  a  spot  in  the  exact  center  of  the  high  ceiling, 
was  fastened  an  iron  swivel  hook  which  turned 
freely  in  any  direction.  From  this  hook  several 
heavy  cords  made  of  ixtli  fiber  spread  in  cone- 
shaped  fashion  and  were  attached  to  a  great 
wooden  hoop  that  completely  filled  the  room,  with 
the  exception,  of  course,  of  the  corners.  This  hoop 
was  suspended  in  an  exactly  horizontal  position  at 
a  height  of  about  four  feet  above  the  floor,  and  a 
single  motion  of  the  hand  could  send  it  spinning 
around  and  around  until  one  became  dizzy  watching 
it,  if  he  so  wished. 

At  intervals  of  about  six  inches  apart,  coarsely 


Hauling  Vegetable  Wax  Plants  to  the  Factory 


Guayule  Rubber  Factory  at  Cuatro  Cienegas 


MANUFACTURING  CANDLES       101 

and  loosely  spun  bits  of  cotton  cordage  were  tied 
to  the  hoop,  which  was  of  very  light  material  and 
hung  down  some  10  inches  or  thereabouts.  On  a 
box  in  one  corner  of  the  room  where  the  curve  of 
the  hoop  left  considerable  space,  the  proprietor- 
manager-foreman-working  force  sat.  Just  in  front 
of  him  was  a  brasero  with  a  small  charcoal  fire 
supporting  an  earthen  vessel  filled  with  melted  tal- 
low. Any  kind  of  animal  fat  answered  the  purpose. 
With  a  ladle  in  one  hand,  the  candle-maker  turned 
the  hoop  a  trifle  with  the  other  until  one  of  the  de- 
pendent wicks  was  exactly  over  the  tallow-filled 
vessel.  Then  he  filled  the  ladle  and  poured  it  on 
the  upper  end  of  the  wick,  allowing  the  liquid  to 
run  down  into  the  vessel,  during  which  process  a 
small  quantity  congealed  and  remained  adhering  to 
the  wick.  After  many  operations  of  this  kind  the 
tallow  began  to  assume  something  of  the  propor- 
tions of  a  candle,  but  it  required  hours  of  patient 
toil,  and  continuous  turning  and  ladling  and  pour- 
ing, before  candles  of  proper  size  were  at  last  pro- 
duced. These  were  not  symmetrical  in  shape,  as 
when  cast  in  a  mold,  but  when  completed  were 
about  the  diameter  of  an  ordinary  lead  pencil  at  the 
top,  gradually  increasing  in  size  until  at  the  lower 
end  they  were  an  inch  or  so  in  thickness.  The 


102      SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

melted  tallow,  being  hot  when  applied  at  the  upper 
extremity  of  the  candle,  ran  rapidly  downward,  but 
cooled  quickly  in  the  process,  thus  causing  the 
candle  to  become  much  thicker  at  the  base  than  at 
the  top.  After  the  candles  had  attained  a  sufficient 
size  they  were  detached  from  the  hoop,  the  base  was 
cut  off  squarely  with  a  sharp  knife,  and  then  they 
were  ready  for  sale  in  the  market.  As  these 
brought  a  very  low  price  by  comparison  with  the 
imported  articles  made  of  paraffin  or  other  sub- 
stances, it  was  very  plain  to  me  that  the  pathway 
to  wealth  followed  so  earnestly  by  this  gray-haired 
manager-proprietor-foreman-working  force  would 
be  a  very  long  one.  It  is  possible  that  he  may  have 
realized  a  profit  of  as  much  as  a  dollar  daily,  but  of 
this  I  have  serious  doubts,  as  the  entire  output  of 
the  factory  for  a  day  could  have  been  easily  carried 
away  in  a  man's  arms.  Many  weary  hours  were 
required  in  order  to  produce  a  single  batch  of 
candles,  but  the  jolly  manufacturer  never  seemed  to 
tire  of  his  task,  while  his  friends  happened  along 
with  regularity  and  halted  for  a  bit  of  gossip  or  to 
smoke  a  cigarette  with  him,  thus  helping  the  time 
to  pass. 


MANUFACTURING  CANDLES       103 


SOMETHING  ABOUT  MATCHES 

Of  cognate  character  was  a  match  manufactory. 
Mexican-made  matches,  as  most  people  are  perhaps 
not  aware,  are  an  entirely  different  thing  from  the 
ordinary  match  of  the  rest  of  the  world.  The  aver- 
age Mexican  match  is  an  inch  to  an  inch  and  a 
quarter  in  length.  It  is  made  with  a  cotton  cord 
coated  with  melted  wax  and  is  about  one-sixteenth 
of  an  inch  in  diameter.  It  is  double-headed,  that 
is,  has  phosphorus  at  each  end,  and  every  match  may 
be  used  twice.  One  can  light  a  cigarette  or  a  cigar, 
or  start  a  fire,  then  extinguish  the  flame,  return  the 
match  to  the  box  and  preserve  it  for  the  next  time. 
Being  constituted  as  they  are,  these  matches  can  be 
used  in  the  open  air  with  much  more  assurance  than 
the  ordinary  imported  wooden  match.  They  can 
be  lighted  and  will  remain  burning  in  the  face  of 
a  very  strong  wind,  which  with  the  other  variety  of 
match  would  be  impossible.  In  the  majority  of 
factories  these  matches  are  made  by  machines,  but 
in  small  towns  everything  is  done  by  hand.  The 
raw  cotton  is  spun  into  threads  and  dozen  of  girls 
and  boys  are  employed  in  the  slow  and  laborious 
work  of  molding  and  tipping  the  matches. 


104      SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

Speaking  of  matches,  by  the  way,  it  is  within  the 
memory  of  people  still  living  that  such  things  were 
not  known,  and  the  old-fashioned  flint  and  steel 
were  the  sole  dependence  for  starting  a  fire.  The 
story  is  told  that  when  matches  were  first  imported 
an  enterprising  storekeeper  laid  in  a  supply  and 
endeavored  to  introduce  them  to  his  customers. 
One  day  an  old  chap  from  a  ranch  some  20  or  25 
miles  distant  dropped  in  and  the  dealer  produced 
some  of  the  wonderful  novelties.  He  emphasized 
the  ease  with  which  a  light  could  be  obtained  in 
comparison  with  the  slow  process  of  flint  and  steel, 
and  as  an  illustration  casually  scratched  a  match  on 
the  leg  of  his  trousers,  saying:  "See  how  easily 
you  can  get  a  light  with  one  of  these  matches!" 
But  the  ranchero  demurred  and  could  not  be  per- 
suaded. "You  say  it  will  save  time?  Not  so! 
How  could  I  come  to  town  and  have  you  make  a 
light  on  your  trousers  leg  every  time  I  wanted  a 
fire  ?  No,  no ;  I  will  use  my  flint  and  steel !" 


Jtopil  Ctgtjteentfj 

A  HOT-WATER  BATH  IN  A  BOTTOMLESS 

PIT 

us  go  for  a  bath!" 

To  "El  Gringo,"  sitting 
in  the  shade  of  the  china- 
berry  tree  in  the  plaza  at 
Cuatro  Cienegas,  came  two 
friends  with  this  proposal. 

Now,  an  invitation  of  that  kind  may  seem  a 
trifle  odd  and  mystifying  to  the  stranger.  Ask- 
ing an  acquaintance  to  "take  a  drink"  or  "have 
a  smoke"  is  common  enough  in  any  portion  of 
the  world,  but  to  invite  one  to  take  a  bath  might 
seem  to  open  the  way  to  some  invidious  comment, 
or  possibly  it  might  even  be  resented!  Especially 
if  a  bath  really  were  needed! 

Not  so  in  Cuatro  Cienegas,  as  will  be  seen! 

It  is  getting  late  in  the  fall.    The  torrid  heat  of 

the   summer   sun   is   tempered   by   the   delightful 

breezes  that  blow  up  and  down  the  valley — in  one 

uniform  direction  by  day  and  in  the  opposite  course 

105 


106      SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

aiter  nightfall.  The  delicious  grapes  and  other 
fruits  produced  here  in  abundance  are  at  their  best 
and  we  revel  in  them  day  after  day.  Such  juicy 
fruit  of  the  vine,  such  luscious  figs,  such  pears  and 
plums  and  peaches,  and  what  not !  A  few  leaves  are 
falling — but  only  a  few.  In  a  land  where  comes 
not  either  frost  or  hail  or  snow,  and  only  on  rare 
occasions  any  rain — or  if  it  does  it  is  so  gentle  as 
not  to  be  unwelcome — there  are  no  sharp  changes 
of  the  seasons.  They  melt  into  one  another  so 
gradually  that  the  summer  is  past  and  gone,  the  har- 
vest is  over  and  done,  autumn  is  in  full  tide,  the 
"winter"  even  comes,  and  we  only  know  it  by  the 
calendar  and  by  the  advent  of  All  Souls'  Day — 
Mexico's  national  Decoration  Day — and  by  the 
coming  of  Noche  Buena,  or  Christmas,  later  on. 

It  is  a  lovely,  genial  mid-October  forenoon,  and 
the  invitation  to  a  bath  comes  to  willing  ears. 

But  the  reader  must  not  be  mistaken  about  it !  A 
bath  in  the  United  States  and  one  in  Cuatro  Ciene- 
gas  are  vastly  different  things.  About  the  only  simi- 
larity is  that  both  are  wet!  In  other  respects  it 
would  be  difficult  to  imagine  anything  at  greater 
variance  from  the  rule  in  such  matters  than  the 
bath  there. 

First,  we  hustle  about  for  towels,  then  start  on  a 


Municipal  Building  in  Cuatro  Cienegas 


Picturesque  Canyon  on  Railway  from  Monclova  to  Cuatro  Cienegas 


A  HOT  WATER  BATH  107 

little  journey  of  a  dozen  or  so  miles  out  into  the 
barren  valley,  hiring  a  "coach"  and  a  couple  of 
tough  little  mules  for  the  occasion.  "Machines" 
are  an  unknown  quantity  at  this  time  and  in  this 
region. 

Then  we  drive  through  the  vineyard-covered  out- 
skirts of  the  town,  raising  several  coveys  of  fat 
quail  as  we  pass ;  but  we  do  not  stop  for  the  tempt- 
ing shot,  as  we  are  intent  on  bathing  and  not  on 
hunting.  Then  rapidly  through  a  belt  of  fertile 
farming  land,  and  then  finally  out  into  the  unsettled 
valley  prairies,  where  thousands  of  acres  are  cov- 
ered with  a  snow-white  efflorescence  interspersed 
with  "sinks"  heavily  encrusted  with  varicolored 
crystallizations.  We  cross  the  "Salon  de  las  Brujas" 
— which,  being  interpreted,  resolves  itself  into  "The 
Dancing  Place  of  the  Witches" — an  appropriate 
designation,  as  will  be  explained.  It  being  broad 
daylight,  none  of  the  "witches"  are  in  evidence !  It 
is  only  after  nightfall  that  they  disport  themselves ! 
Then,  across  the  solidly  encrusted  ice-like  surface 
of  the  salon,  the  brisk  wind  brings  little  twisting 
columns  of  the  loose  white  salts,  which  flit  hither 
and  yon  over  the  rolling  valley  surface  and  require 
little  enough  imagination  on  the  part  of  the  super- 
stitious natives  to  become  endowed  with  super- 


108      SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

natural  and  malicious  life.  Especially  if  the  native 
be  returning  home  after  a  day  spent  among  the  wine 
cellars  or  cantinas  of  Cuatro  Cienegas  and  many 
"copitas"  have  been  absorbed  of  the  heady,  but  it 
must  be  confessed  in  many  cases  appetizingly 
seductive,  products  of  the  vineyards. 

Beyond  the  resort  of  the  putative  witches  the 
road  winds  endlessly  on  and  on  toward  the  distant 
purple  hills,  which  do  not  seem  to  become  one  whit 
nearer  even  after  an  hour  or  two  of  steady  jogging 
travel.  Mesquite  thickets  line  the  road  and  give 
shelter  to  a  frequent  rabbit  or  a  bunch  of  quail  or 
cooing  doves,  while  from  some  overflowed  land  in 
the  distance  rise  swarms  of  ducks  and  geese,  which 
promise  "good  hunting"  when  the  occasion  offers. 
Then  out  from  the  thickets  we  pass  onto  a  level 
plain  covered  with  coarse  clumps  of  sedge  grass, 
through  which  we  wind  our  way  until  the  bathing 
place  is  reached.  If  it  be  the  first  visit  of  a  stranger, 
it  is  an  odd  enough  experience.  If,  however,  he  be 
familiar  with  the  wonderful  natural  phenomenon 
that  greets  the  eye,  it  still  is  of  interest.  One  never 
tires  of  it. 

Suddenly  and  without  any  sort  of  warning  the 
coach  halts  on  the  brink  of  as  strange  and  wonder- 
ful a  pool  as  can  be  imagined.  All  around  is  dry 


A  HOT  WATER  BATH  109 

and  barren,  yet  here  is  a  circular  basin,  some  150 
feet  in  diameter,  rounded  as  if  laid  out  by  an  en- 
gineer. The  brown  sedge  grass  hangs  heavy  over 
the  brim,  and  there  is  a  straight  drop  of  three  or 
four  feet  to  the  surface  of  the  water.  And  that 
water!  Blue  it  is  as  the  sky!  Blue  as  indigo! 
And  as  the  wind  ruffles  across  its  surface,  if  it  be 
a  cool  day,  light  clouds  of  vapor  arise  and  are 
borne  hither  and  thither,  for  the  water  is  hot — hot 
as  blazes!  At  the  edges  the  pool  is  two  or 
three  feet  in  depth,  but  the  bottom  slopes  with  the 
most  perfect  regularity  at  an  angle  of  about  forty- 
five  degrees  to  the  center,  and  it  is  snow  white! 
A  pure  dazzling  white,  which,  with  the  deep  blue 
of  the  water,  presents  a  most  entrancing  picture. 
Away  down  deep  in  the  center,  many,  many  feet  be- 
low the  surface,  is  a  ragged  crater-like  opening 
through  which  pours  a  constant  supply  of  water 
from  the  depths  below,  whose  extent  can  be  gauged 
by  the  fact  that  through  an  open  cut  at  one  side  a 
ditch  passes  which  is  some  six  feet  in  width  and 
carries  a  flow  two  feet  deep. 

The  bottom  and  sides  of  the  pool  are,  as  stated, 
snow  white  in  color.  The  substance  of  which  they 
are  composed  is  smooth  and  greasy  to  the  touch, 
and  upon  examination  is  found  to  consist  largely 


110      SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

of  minute  spiral  shells,  many  of  microscopic  dimen- 
sions. In  some  places  the  deposit  has  a  beautiful 
light  salmon  color  of  the  most  delicate  hue.  There 
is  not  a  particle  of  grit  and  the  material  may  be 
used  instead  of  soap,  possessing  remarkable  deter- 
gent qualities.  One  plasters  it  liberally  upon  his 
entire  body,  and  then  plunges  into  the  hot  water  of 
the  pool,  the  result  being  a  most  satisfactory  and 
beneficial  bath.  There  is  only  one  drawback;  one 
never  knows  when  to  quit!  The  whole  sensation 
is  so  agreeable  and  so  different  from  anything  of 
the  sort  ever  before  encountered,  that  it  is  with 
reluctance  you  finally,  after  playing  about  in  the 
water  for  an  hour  or  more,  emerge,  don  your 
clothes  and  regretfully  turn  Cuatro  Cienegasward. 
While  no  analysis  of  this  water  has  ever  been 
made,  so  far  at  least  as  the  writer  knows,  it  has 
been  demonstrated  to  possess  curative  properties  of 
value.  The  famous  General  Escobedo,  one  of 
Benito  Juarez's  most  valiant  and  valuable  aids,  in 
his  revolutionary  war,  sought  refuge  at  one  time  in 
this  valley,  and  remained  there  for  a  considerable 
period.  Being  afflicted  with  a  severe  attack  of  in- 
flammatory rheumatism,  and  hearing  the  fame  pos- 
sessed among  the  natives  by  the  pool,  he  established 
a  camp  on  the  bank  of  the  basin.  A  rude  stone  hut 


A  HOT  WATER  BATH  111 

(still  standing,  by  the  way,  in  a  ruinous  condition) 
was  thrown  up,  and  a  channel  was  excavated  from 
the  pool  to  the  building,  in  order  to  conduct  the 
water  thither.  In  the  floor  of  the  hut  a  deep  basin 
was  hollowed  out  in  the  solid  rock,  and  into  this  a 
constant  stream  of  the  hot  water  passed.  The 
sufferer  was  accustomed  to  recline  in  this  basin  for 
hours  at  a  time,  in  fact  the  entire  day  being  passed 
in  this  manner,  thus  soaking  his  pain-racked  body 
until  it  must  have  been  completed  saturated.  The 
result  was  that  in  a  few  weeks  the  military  leader 
was  entirely  restored  to  health  and  was  again  able 
to  take  the  field.  Since  that  time  the  pool  has  been 
generally  known  as  the  "Baths  of  Escobedo,"  and 
the  natives  come  from  far  and  wide  to  lave  in  its 
waters,  as  well  as  to  thoroughly  cleanse  anything  of 
a  textile  nature  that  needs  renovation,  with  the 
least  possible  outlay  of  time  and  labor. 

And  of  such  is  the  bath  that  "El  Gringo"  was 
invited  to  enjoy  by  his  friends  in  Cuatro  Cienegas ! 
And  did  enjoy  it  many  times ! 

It  is  well  worth  traveling  hundreds  of  miles ! 


JJmeteent?) 


TRAGIC  ENDING  OF  A  TRANQUIL 
SUMMER 

ND  then  suddenly,  unexpectedly,  with 
no  premonition,  no  warning,  like  the 
shock  of  an  earthquake,  came  the 
tragic  ending  of  these  peaceful,  rest- 
ful months.  One  whose  life  has  flowed  on  evenly, 
steadily,  with  none  but  the  usual  incidents  in  regu- 
lar and  natural  order,  can  have  no  idea  of  what  it 
means  to  be  shocked  by  the  sudden  and  unheralded 
announcement  of  the  violent  death  of  one's  closest 
associate,  who  but  a  few  short  days  previously  had 
been  in  the  best  of  health  ;  had  bidden  his  companion 
a  hearty  good-bye;  who  had  a  family  whom  he 
loved  and  by  whom  he  was  in  turn  adored;  who 
was  comparatively  young  and  who  had  from  every 
outward  indication  a  long  life  of  business  success 
and  happiness  before  him.  And  when  the  truth 
about  that  death  is  a  mystery  and  must  always 
remain  so,  despite  close  and  careful  investigation, 

112 


TRAGIC  ENDING  OF  A  SUMMER  113 

the  shock  is  all  the  greater  and  its  effects  all  the 
more  lasting.  They  never  pass  away,  but  ever  re- 
main as  a  dark  cloud  in  the  memory. 

It  was  on  a  lovely,  peaceful,  quiet  Sunday  after- 
noon. The  plaza  was  thronged,  as  the  band  was 
about  to  begin  its  regular  musical  program,  under 
the  direction,  by  the  way,  of  an  expert  musician 
whose  name  is  attached  to  some  of  the  most  popu- 
lar airs  in  Mexico,  but  whose  unfortunate  failings 
— the  failings  of  a  genius — had  doomed  him  to  an 
obscure  existence  in  this  out-of-the-way  place. 

I  had  been  sitting  ever  since  the  close  of  the 
siesta  hour  on  my  favorite  settee,  idly  watching  the 
passing  throng,  receiving  and  exchanging  saluta- 
tions, and  never  dreaming  that  my  summer's  idyll 
was  close  to  an  abrupt  end.  Some  sudden  impulse 
prompted  me  to  cross  the  street  and  pay  a  call  upon 
Don  Martin  at  his  residence — something  I  had 
never  before  done  on  a  Sunday  in  all  the  time  I 
had  resided  here. 

I  had  not  been  in  the  patio  five  minutes  before 
the  telephone  bell  in  the  entrance  to  the  house  rang, 
and  my  host  answered  it.  I  heard  an  exclamation 
of  surprise,  then  a  hurried  conversation  in  agitated 
tones,  and  then  Don  Martin  came  back  to  where  I 
was  sitting  and  stood  speechless  for  a  moment  or 


114      SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

two.  Glancing  at  his  face,  I  saw  a  look  of  con- 
sternation upon  it  and  noted  that  he  was  greatly 
disturbed  for  some  reason.  He  hesitated  a  few 
moments  and  then  said: 

"Oh,  Senor  Semanas,  I  have  some  very  bad  news 
for  you!  I  do  not  know  how  to  tell  it.  It  is 
shocking." 

"Tell  me  quickly,"  I  replied.  "Bad  news  is  best 
told  at  once.  I  am  used  to  it."  As  indeed  I  was, 
and  was  to  become  even  more  inured  in  the  com- 
ing years. 

"Your  partner  out  on  the  desert  is  dead — shot! 
He  killed  himself  or  was  killed  early  this  morning 
at  his  camp  on  the  Fortuna  hacienda,  a  hundred 
miles  out.  The  Judge  at  Ocampo  has  just  received 
the  news  and  asked  me  to  tell  you." 

Further  conversation  over  the  telephone  with  the 
official  in  the  town  named,  over  forty  miles  distant, 
disclosed  the  fact  that  the  Chinese  cook,  who  was 
the  only  person  with  the  dead  man  at  the  time,  was 
under  arrest,  while  stoutly  maintaining  his  inno- 
cence of  crime  and  declaring  that  it  was  a  case  of 
suicide,  though  he  acknowledged  he  heard  but  did 
not  see  the  fatal  shot  fired.  But  there  was  no 
reason  why  the  victim  should  have  wished  to  end 
his  life.  Indeed,  the  reasons  were  all  of  an  opposite 


TRAGIC  ENDING  OF  A  SUMMER  115 

character;  he  had  every  inducement  to  cling  closely 
to  existence. 

No  amount  of  investigation,  however,  disclosed 
anything  to  contradict  the  story  of  the  Chinaman, 
and  as  there  were  no  other  witnesses,  he  was  finally 
discharged  from  custody  at  my  request,  though  I 
was  required  to  give  a  bond  to  produce  him  at  any 
time  if  further  investigation  should  be  deemed  de- 
sirable. Nothing  however  was  ever  done  in  the 
matter,  and  the  case  went  into  the  same  category 
with  the  many  other  mysteries  of  the  desert  wher- 
ever there  is  a  desert,  in  the  United  States  as  well 
as  elsewhere.  No  region  is  so  prolific  of  the  un- 
solved problems  of  human  life  and  death. 

But  the  tragedy  necessitated  changes  which  soon 
put  an  end  to  my  stay  in  Cuatro  Cienegas,  and  it 
was  with  genuine  regret  that  I  gave  up  my  familiar 
seat  under  the  china-berry  tree,  paid  farewell  visits 
to  my  friends,  and  finally  left  the  place  which  had 
so  endeared  itself  to  me,  and  undertook  a  long  and 
arduous  journey  via  muleback  among  the  fastnesses 
of  the  Sierra  Madre  and  the  jungles  of  the  West 
Coast — little  known  regions — and  which  it  is  in- 
tended to  deal  with  at  length  in  another  volume. 


3La*t  of  tfte 


A  PEON  WOMAN'S  PHILOSOPHY  AND 
IDEAS  OF  WEALTH 

N  connection  with  the  tragic  end  of  my 
sojourn  in  Cuatro  Cienegas,  an  in- 
teresting incident  occurred  illustrat- 
ing the  character  of  the  despised 
peon  (only  despised  by  those  who  do  not  know 
him  or  her). 

During  all  my  stay  in  the  town  my  laundry  work 
had  been -per  formed  by  a  poor  woman  of  the  peon 
class — the  last  person  to  whom  any  one  would  credit 
the  possession  of  any  depth  of  feeling.  To  her, 
when  turning  over  at  her  request  the  blood-stained 
effects  of  the  dead  man,  and  which  she  eagerly  wel- 
comed, I  casually  remarked  in  discussing  the  details 
of  the  tragedy,  that  a  sum  of  money  in  which  I 
was  equal  owner  had  disappeared  at  the  death  of 
my  associate.  I  had  no  intention  whatever  of  com- 
plaining or  bemoaning  the  loss,  but  merely  men- 
tioned it  as  an  interesting  and  perhaps  suspicious 

116 


A    PEON  WOMAN'S  PHILOSOPHY  117 

circumstance  in  connection  with  the  mystery.  But 
she  evidently  thought  I  was  lamenting  my  monetary 
misfortune,  for  she  looked  at  me  a  moment  in 
silence  and  apparent  surprise,  not  unmixed  with  re- 
proach. Then  she  said: 

"Why,  Sefior,  you  ought  not  to  complain  because 
you  have  lost  some  money,  no  matter  how  much! 
Your  companion  lost  all  he  had — his  life!" 

Could  any  one  equal  that  for  sympathy  or 
philosophy?  I  hastened  to  disabuse  her  mind  of 
the  idea  that  I  had  any  thought  of  complaining,  for 
even  though  she  was  but  a  peon,  I  assuredly  wished 
to  justify  myself  in  her  eyes  and  not  leave  her  with 
a  wrong  impression  as  to  my  feelings  regarding  the 
death  of  my  associate. 

This  same  laundress,  Maria  was  her  name,  had 
taken  advantage  of  the  fact  that  she  had  a  "regu- 
lar" patron  who  always  paid  "C.  O.  D."  for  her 
services,  and  essayed  to  purchase  a  sewing  machine, 
that  ultima  thule  of  the  average  Mexican  housewife's 
ambition,  obtaining  it  upon  the  "installment"  plan. 
This  is  a  serious  task  for  a  peon,  since  the  un- 
conscionable price  of  $140  was  demanded  therefor 
by  the  agent  of  the  only  company  of  the  kind  that 
has  obtained  much  of  a  foothold  in  that  country. 
And  when  it  is  remembered  that  at  the  time  of 


118     SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 

which  I  write  a  dollar  a  day  was  considered  good 
wages  for  an  able-bodied  man,  while  the  average  in 
the  Cuatro  Cienegas  section  was  not  fifty  cents  a 
day,  one  can  see  what  a  burden  was  assumed  when 
an  agreement  was  made  to  buy  a  sewing  machine  on 
monthly  payments  of  even  five  dollars. 

It  was  Maria's  custom  to  come  to  me  the  first 
of  each  month  when  the  installment  fell  due  and 
ask  me  to  advance  the  five  dollars  necessary  to 
discharge  her  liability,  the  amount  so  advanced  to 
be  deducted  from  that  subsequently  earned  over, 
not  the  wash  board,  but  the  wash  stone.  This  went 
on  satisfactorily  until  she  had  made  a  very  ma- 
terial reduction  in  her  indebtedness. 

But  when  the  time  came  that  I  was  to  leave  she 
was  sorely  puzzled.  It  chanced  to  be  just  as  an 
installment  was  due,  and  Maria  came  to  me  about 
it.  I  told  her  that  I  could  not  advance  the  money, 
as  I  was  only  to  be  in  town  a  week  longer  and  she 
would  not  have  sufficient  opportunity  to  earn  the 
amount,  while  I  could  not  afford  to  lose  it. 

"Oh,  but  that  makes  no  difference  to  you,  Senor. 
You  are  very  rich  and  I  am  very  poor,  and  you  can 
afford  to  lose  so  small  an  amount  as  five  dollars." 

"Why,  Maria,"  I  replied,  "I  am  not  rich.  I  am 
poorer  than  you  think.  I  have  very  little." 


A   PEON  WOMAN'S  PHILOSOPHY  119 

"Oh,  no,  Senor,"  she  replied,  "I  know  you  are 
very  rich !" 

"Now,  Maria,  that  is  not  so.  You  are  very  much 
mistaken.  But  how  rich  do  you  think  I  am  ?  How 
much  do  you  think  I  gain  in  a  month?" 

She  gave  me  a  long  look  of  appraisal,  studied  me 
from  head  to  foot,  hesitated  for  a  moment,  evi- 
dently concluded  to  venture  the  maximum,  and 
then  said: 

"Very  well,  Senor.  I  think  you  must  have  as 
much  as  a  hundred  pesos  a  month!"  (The  equiva- 
lent of  fifty  dollars  in  American  currency.) 

This  was  manifestly  the  uttermost  limit  of  her 
idea  as  to  what  constituted  great  wealth.  And  no 
wonder.  For  in  this  town  the  average  public  em- 
ployee or  store  worker  considered  himself  fortunate 
indeed  if  he  received  from  $40  to  $50  per  month, 
and  the  common  peon  did  not  average  50  cents  a 
day  the  year  round — worth  half  that  in  gold. 

Maria  got  her  five  dollars! 


And  so  passed  the  summer's  idyll  of  an  idle 
summer. 


120      SEEN  IN  A  MEXICAN  PLAZA 


THE  LEAVE-TAKING 

My  friend  Don  Martin  was  kind  enough  to  say 
to  me  when  we  parted:  "Senor  Semanas,  I  wish 
to  tell  you  something.  Every  one  of  my  fellow- 
countrymen  for  a  hundred  miles  around  Cuatro 
Cienegas  knows  you,  and  they  all  call  you  'El 
Gringo/  They  do  not  do  this  to  show  disrespect, 
but  because  you  are  the  only  stranger  in  the  place, 
and  your  name  is  difficult  for  them  to  pronounce 
(they  spoke  it  as  if  it  were  spelled  Huiquis — in- 
deed some  wrote  it  that  way).  So  they  content 
themselves  by  calling  you  as  I  have  said.  But  every 
one  in  all  this  region  likes  you  and  is  your  friend, 
because  you  have  treated  them  as  if  they  were  men." 

Incidentally,  I  may  add  that  this  is  all  any  Mexi- 
can asks. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


